ON    THE    CAM. 


LECTURES 


UNIVERSITY     OF     CAMBRIDGE 


IN    ENGLAND. 


By  WILLIAM    EVERETT,  A.  M. 


tf 


C  A  M  B  R  I  I)  ( ;  K  : 

S  i:  V  E  i;     A  N  D     F  R  A  NCIS, 

1  8  0  5  . 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1865,  by 

WILLIAM     KVERF.TT, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


Universjty  Press  :  Wf.lch,  Bigelow,  &  Co., 
Cambridge. 


TO    THE 

Rev.   JAMES   WALKER,  D.  D.,  LL.  D., 

EX-PRESrDENT   OF   HARVARD   COLLEGE, 

MY    CONSTANT    MODEL    OF    CHRISTIAN     ELOQUENCE    AND    ACA- 
DEMIC CULTURE,  AND   THE    BELOVED    FRIEND   OF    TWO 
FORMER    HOLDERS    OF    THE     SAME     HONORABLE 
POSITION,     WHOSE     EXAMPLE    WAS     MY 
BEST    INSTRUCTION    IN    COLLEGE, 
AND     WHOSE     MEMORY     IS 
AMONG  MY  CHOICEST 
TREASURES. 


PREFACE. 


The  following  twelve  lectures  were  delivered 
in  the  hall  of  the  Lowell  Institute  in  Boston,  in 
the  months  of  January  and  February,  18G4.  In 
preparing  them  for  the  press,  it  could  not  escape 
my  notice  that  much  of  the  matter  they  con- 
tinued was  of  an  essentially  rhetorical  character, 
better  suited  for  a  lecture  than  an  essay.  It  was 
no  less  evident,  however,  that  any  attempt  to 
change  their  tone  to  something  more  didactic 
would  be  to  re-write  them  entirely,  and  as  they 
form  a  connected  whole,  the  result  would  prob- 
ably be  that  the  facts  and  theories  brought  for- 
ward would  bo  made  less  interesting  without  any 
gain  in  perspicuity  or  accuracy.  They  have  been 
therefore  submitted  to  the  public  exactly  as  de- 
delivered. 

For  the  emphasis  with  which  certain  views  are 
advanced,  I  trust  no  apology  is  needed.  A  resi- 
dence o['  seven   vears  and  more  in  two  Universi- 


VI  PREFACE. 

ties  can  hardly  fail  to  generate  strong  opinions 
on  such  topics  as  the  value  of  College  studies ; 
and  between  three  and  four  years  passed  in  a 
foreign  country  is  apt  to  leave  the  mind  in  a  very 
different  disposition  to  its  inhabitants  from  those 
contracted  by  occasional  and  short  encounters 
with  them.  The  pages  in  which  a  sentiment  of 
the  most  cordial  good-will  towards  England  is 
advanced  were  written  and  spoken  at  a  time  when 
our  relations  to  her  were  most  apathetic,  if  not 
antagonistic ;  I  can  see  no  reason  to  change  them 
now,  when  recent  events,  glorious  or  sad,  have 
brought  the  countries  so  much  nearer.  No  class 
of  men  appears  to  me  less  truly  patriotic  than 
those  whose  only  idea  of  upholding  our  own 
country  is  to  run  down  others ;  there  are  such 
everywhere,  and  whether  Americans  or  English, 
they  will  find  little  satisfaction  in  these  pages. 

It  may  bo  proper  to  say  that  all  statistics  with 
reference  to  the  present  condition  of  Cambridge 
are  taken  from  the  Cambridge  Calendar  for  18G0 ; 
the  architectural  and  antiquarian  notes  from  Lc 
Keux's  "Memorials  of  Cambridge";  the  rem- 
iniscences of  the  early  Puritans  from  Young's 
"  Chronicles  of  Massachusetts." 


CONTENTS 


Pagb 
Introduction       ........      xi 


LECTURE    I. 

General  View  of  Cambridge  University. 

Introduction.  —  Old  and  New  Cambridge. —  American  Igno- 
rance of  English  Universities.  —  Cambridge  and  Vicinity 
described.  —  Connection  and  Distinction  of  University  and 
Colleges.  —  Analogy  of  the  Union  and  the  States.         .        .        1 

LECTURE    II. 

IIlSTORY    AND    OBJECTS    OF    CAMBRIDGE    SCHOLARSHIP. 

Mediaeval  Scholarship  confined  to  the  Church.  —  Its  Character. 

—  Revival  of  Greek  Literature. — Erasmus.  —  Uentley. — 
The  Newtonian  Mathematics. —  General  Character  of  Cam- 
bridge Scholarship. —  Advantages  in  a  University  Course  of 
Mathematical  Study,  —  and  of  Classical 32 

LECTURE    III. 

Methods  of  Instruction  and  Study. 

Competitive  Examinations.  —  The  final  one  described.  —  Uni- 
versity and  College  Lectures. —  College  and  Private  Tutors. 

—  Vindication  of  the  Competitive  System,  and  of  the  Pursuit 

of  College  Studies  generally.  —  "  The  Wanderers."        .         .       04 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

LECTURE    IV. 

Incentives  to  Study,  and  Non-Students. 

College  Examinations.  —  Prizes  of  Various  Kinds.  —  Com- 
memoration.—  Scholarships  and  Fellowships. —  The  "  Poll  " 
Degree.  —  Professors'  Lectures.  —  Shifts  to  avoid  Study.  — 
Generosity  between  Students  and  Non-Students.  —  General 
Discussion  of  the  Cambridge  System 97 

LECTURE    V. 

Life  of  an  Undergraduate.  —  Regular. 

Trinity  College  selected  as  the  Type.  —  Dinner  in  Hall.  —  Col- 
lege Kitchen  and  Courtyard.  —  Union  Society.  —  Vespers 
on  a  Saint's  Day.  —  A  Student's  Evening.  —  A  Breakfast 
Party.  —  Treatment  of  Younger  by  Older  Classes.  —  Private 
Tutor.  —  A  Walk 130 


LECTURE    VI. 

Life  of  an  Undergraduate. — Exceptional. 

Length  of  the  College  Course. —  Vacation.  — Taking  the  De- 
gree. —  Discipline.  —  Sundays.  —  Clubs  and  Associations.  — 
Cricket  and  Rowing.  —  Description  of  a  Boat-Race.  —  Trin- 
ity Boat  Song. 163 


LECTURE    VII. 

Survey  of  the  Different  Colleges. 

St.  John's. —  Magdalene.  — Sidney  Sussex. —  Jesus. —  Christ's. 
—  Emmanuel.  —  Downing.  —  St.  Peter's.  —  Pembroke.  — 
Queens'.  —  St.  Catherine's.  —  Corpus  Christi.  —  King's.  — 
Clare.  —  Trinity  Hall.  —  Caius 197 


CONTENTS.  IX 

LECTURE    VIII. 

Great  Men  of  Cambridge  before  1688. 

Erasmus  and  early  Scholars.  —  Reformers.  —  Elizabethan 
Statesmen  and  Poets. —  Sir  Edward  Coke.  —  Translators  of 
the  Bible.  —  Bacon.  —  New  England  Puritans.  —  Strafford. 
—  Cromwell.  —  Milton 228 


LECTURE    IX. 

Great  Men  of  Cambridge  since  1688. 

Mathematicians.  —  Scholars.  —  Divines.  —  Lawyers.  —  States- 
men. —  Authors.  —  Newton,  Bentley,  Barrow,  Lyndhurst, 
Pitt,  Macaulay,  and  others. — Song  for  Cambridge.        .        .    259 


LECTURE    X. 

Drawbacks  of  the  Cambridge  Life. 

Favorable  Opinion  heretofore  expressed.  —  Abuses  and  Ex- 
tortions by  Servants.  —  Expense  of  Living.  —  Position  of  the 
Aristocracy.  —  Hardships  of  Average  Men  and  Advantages 
of  Specialists.  —  Strong  Nationality  of  the  University.  .     292 


LECTURE    XI. 

Relations  of  Cambridge  to  the  English  Church. 

Ecclesiastical  Character  of  the  Colleges.  —  Attendance  on 
Chapel  and  other  Religions  Duties.  — Act  of  1662.  —  Theo- 
logical Examination  and  other  Requisites  for  Ordination. — 
Parties  in  the  Church.  —  Oxford  the  Seat  of  Extremists, 
Cambridge  of  Broad-Church  Divines .c 


X  CONTENTS. 

LECTURE    XII. 

Relations  of  Cambridge,  England,  and  America. 

The  Universities  and  the  Professions.  —  Middle-Class  Examina- 
tions. —  The  Universities  Aristocratic.  —  Cambridge  and 
Oxford  contrasted.  —  Cambridge  the  liberal  University. — 
English  Opinions  of  America.  —  Mutual  Needs  of  the  two- 
Countries.  —  Concluding  Stanzas. 352 


APPENDIX. 


I.    Older  and  Younger  Students  ....    883 

II.   Different  Colleges        ....         -        388 

III.    Expenses 389 


INTRODUCTION. 


In  order  that  the  reader  may  thoroughly  appre- 
ciate the  position  in  which  these  lectures  were 
written,  I  must  here  trouble  him,  once  for  all,  with 
certain  personal  records,  in  order  to  avoid  constant 
egotistical  reminiscences  in  the  body  of  the  work. 

Having  graduated  at  Harvard  in  July,  1859,  I 
sailed  for  England  on  September  21st  of  that  year. 
Arriving  on  October  2d,  I  was  admitted  a  pen- 
sioner of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  on  October 
10th,  Rev.  William  Whewell,  D.  D.,  being  Master 
of  the  College,  and  Rev.  J.  B.  Lightfoot  the  Col- 
lege tutor,  under  whose  care  I  was  placed.  I  re- 
mained here  for  three  entire  academic  years  of 
three  terms  each,  including  also  portions  of  the 
Christmas  and  Easter  vacations  of  each  year,  and 
the  months  of  July  and  August  in  the  long  vaca- 
tions of  1800  and  1802.  In  June,  1801,  being 
the  beginning  of  the  long  vacation,  I  returned  to 
America,  leaving  it  again  in  October  of  the  same 
year.  Beginning  the  fourth  academic  year  in  Oc- 
tober, 1802,  1  took  the  degree  of  B.  A.  on  the 
;ll>t  of  January,  I80o,  remaining  at  Cambridge  as 


Xll  INTRODUCTION. 

a  Bachelor  of  Arts  till  June  of  that  year,  except- 
ing seven  weeks  on  the  Continent  in  March  and 
April,  and  returned  to  America  in  the  summer  of 
1863. 

During  this  interval,  I  passed  the  following 
University  examinations :  Three  for  the  University 
scholarships  in  February,  18G0,  1861,  and  1862  ; 
Little-Go  or  previous  examination  in  April,  1861 ; 
Mathematical  Tripos  in  January,  1863,  in  virtue 
of  which  I  received  the  degree  ;  and  Classical  Tri- 
pos in  the  ensuing  February ;  also  competing  for 
certain  University  prizes.  My  College  examina- 
tions were :  For  admission,  October,  1859 ;  May 
examinations,  1860, 1861,  1862  ;  Christmas  exam- 
ination, 1860  ;  for  Foundation  Scholarsliips,  Easter 
1861  and  1862,  after  the  second  of  which  I  was 
chosen  to  one  of  the  Scholarships.  I  also  competed 
for  certain  College  prizes,  with  a  partial  amount  of 
success. 

During  this  period,  the  Prince  Consort,  Chancel- 
lor of  the  University,  died,  and  the  Duke  of 
Devonshire  was  elected  to  the  vacant  place.  The 
successive  Vice-Chancellors  were  Rev.  W.  II. 
Bateson,  Master  of  St.  John's  ;  Hon.  and  Rev.  L. 
Neville,  Master  of  Magdalene  ;  Rev.  George  Phil- 
lips, President  of  Queens',  and  Rev.  Edward  At- 
kinson, Master  of  Clare.  From  the  hands  of  this 
last  I  received  my  degree.  The  Prince  of  Wales 
connected  himself  with  the  University  in  the  spring 
of  1861,  and  left  on  his  father's  decease ;  and  the 


INTRODUCTION.  Xlll 

British  Scientific  Association  met  at  Cambridge  in 

1862. 

It  will  be  observed  that  this  period  embraces  in 
the  history  of  England  the  outbreak  and  termina- 
tion of  the  Chinese  War ;  the  gradual  cessation  of 
Reform  agitation ;  the  death  of  Lord  Macaulay ; 
the  publication  of  Essays  and  Reviews,  and  of  Dr. 
Colenso's  Theological  Works ;  the  distress  in  the 
manufacturing  districts  ;  the  death  of  the  mother 
and  husband  of  the  reigning  sovereign  ;  the  antici- 
pation  of  French  invasion ;  the  inauguration  of 
the  Rifle  Volunteer  movement ;  the  Trent  affair, 
and  other  complication  of  England  in  American 
matters ;  the  death  of  Lord  Herbert  and  Sir  G. 
Cornewall  Lewis ;  the  gradual  uneasy  breaking  up 
and  reuniting  of  parties ;  the  marriage  of  the 
Prince  of  Wales  and  others  of  the  royal  family. 
The  death  of  Count  Cavour,  the  consolidation  of 
Italy,  and  the  Polish  outbreak,  are  the  chief  topics 
of  interest  in  Europe. 

American  history  during  the  same  time  compre- 
hends the  visit  of  the  Prince  of  Wales  to  this  coun- 
try; the  election  of  1800  ;  and  the  whole  history 
of  the  secession,  rebellion,  and  war,  down  to  Lee's 
advance  into  Pennsylvania,  which  was  the  news 
received  at  the  quarantine  ground  in  New  York 
by  the  steamer  in  which  I  finally  returned.  Dur- 
ing the  first  battles  of  the  war,  —  Rich  Mountain, 
Lull  Run,  &c,  —  I  was  in  this  country. 

These  great  public  events  make  less  stir  in   an 


XIV  INTRODUCTION. 

English  than  in  an  American  college.  The  almost 
monastic  isolation  is  so  great,  that  it  seemed  a 
greater  event  to  me  to  change  my  rooms  from  let- 
ter D,  New  Court,  where  I  was  for  two  years  and 
a  half,  to  letter  I,  Old  Court,  where  I  ended  my 
course,  than  for  the  command  of  the  army  to  pass 
from  McClellan  to  Burnside.  The  effect  of  con- 
temporary events  is  therefore  but  slightly  touched 
in  these  lectures,  which  are  meant  to  exhibit  Cam- 
bridge as  it  is. 

Soon  after  I  entered,  I  was  entreated  by  several 
friends  in  America  to  collect  all  the  materials  I 
could  for  a  book  on  Cambridge  and  England.  Had 
I  made  a  business  of  this,  these  lectures  would  be 
fuller  of  educational  and  architectural  lore  ;  but 
they  would  have  entirely  lost  the  spirit  of  the 
place,  and  after  all  Avould  have  been  inferior  to 
Le  Keux's  "Memorials,"  and  Cooper's  "  Athenge 
Cantabrigienses."  I  conceived  that  the  best  mate- 
rials  I  could  collect  were  those  picked  up  in  the 
daily  pathway  of  an  undex^graduate,  and  never 
went  out  of  that  patli  to  gather  precious  gems  or 
hew  out  shapely  blocks. 

As  I  finish  these  lines,  the  last  written  of  this 
book,  a  feeling  of  irresistible  sadness  comes  over 
me,  which  no  one  will  reprehend.  I  went  to 
Cambridge  with  the  counsel,  the  help,  the  blessing 
of  one  to  whom,  under  heaven,  I  owe  all  that 
makes  my  life  worth  living.  I  passed  nearly  four 
years  of  exile  in  the  light  of  home  thoughts  where 


INTRODUCTION.  XV 

he  was  the  central  sun.  I  delivered  these  lectures 
on  my  return  with  his  constant  encouragement 
and  favor ;  and  now  that  I  make  my  first  start  on 
the  path  he  chose  for  his  own,  I  can  only  sigh  for 
the  presence  which  would  have  excused  all  errors, 
doubled  all  efforts,  and  supplied  all  needs,  and 
which  is  taken  from  me,  from  his  country,  forever. 

"  Manibus  date  lilia  plenis ; 
Purpureos  spargam  flores,  animamque  parentis 
His  saltern  accumulem  donis,  et  fungar  inani 
Munere." 

Cambridge,  Mass.,  June  29,  1865. 


GENERAL  VIEW  OF  CAMBRIDGE  UNIVERSITY. 

Introduction.  —  Old  and  New  Cambridge.  —  American  Igno- 
rance of  English  Universities.  —  Cambridge  and  Vicin- 
ity described.  —  Connection  and  Distinction  of  Univer- 
sity and  Colleges.  —  Analogy  of  the  Union  and  the 
States. 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen  :  — 

It  is  a  task,  arduous  in  no  slight  degree,  for  a 
wholly  untried  lecturer,  a  young  man,  scarce  as- 
sured that  he  is  free  from  the  discipline  of  school 
and  college,  to  appear  before  such  an  audience  as 
this,  and  in  such  a  place.  If  America  is  the  coun- 
try, par  excellence,  of  popular  lecturing,  the  Lowell 
Institute  must"  be  the  head  of  all  the  institutions 
that  offer  this  form  of  instruction  to  the  people ; 
and  any  one,  however  experienced  or  well-in- 
formed, may  well  feel  a  tremor,  on  first  attempting 
so  honorable  a  work,  and  one  where  so  much  is 
expected,  as  a  course  of  Lowell  Lectures.  I  know, 
my  honored  fellow-citizens,  that  I  may  expect  at 
your  hands  sympathy  and  indulgence  for  all  the 
imperfections  of  youth.  You  are  not  to  listen  to- 
night, as  all  of  us  used  to  do  with  so  much  pleasure, 


2  ON   THE   CAM. 

to  the  voice  of  the  most  learned  and  accomplished 
classical  scholar  of  Massachusetts ;  but  you  will  be 
satisfied  when  I  tell  you  that  my  model  of  a  lecturer 
is  he  whose  instructions  were  my  delight  at  home, 
whose  encouragement  attended  me  abroad,  and 
whose  loss  has  given  the  harshest  shock  to  my 
happiness  at  returning,  —  the  erudite,  the  brilliant, 
the  beloved  Felton. 

If  I  fail  —  as  who  should  hope  to  succeed?  — 
in  reproducing  to  you  the  lecturers  of  other  years, 
you  will  at  least  give  me  credit  for  an  ardent  wish 
to  please  you,  for  a  young  man's  enthusiasm  in  my 
subject,  and  for  American  loyalty.  And  I  fear 
that  this  last  quality,  which  we  all  need  so  much 
now,  I  shall  need  doubly  to-night,  —  for  my  sub- 
ject will  involve  what,  in  the  opinion  of  many 
good  Americans,  is  a  fatal  objection  to  any  writer 
or  speaker,  the  praises  of  England  and  of  some 
English  institutions.  Having  passed  nearly  four 
years  in  England ;  returning  with  a  sadly  frag- 
mentary knowledge  of  the  great  events  that  have 
taken  place  at  home,  —  though  I  have  tried  to 
make  the  most  of  them  abroad,  —  my  heart  is  full, 
and  so  must  my  course  be,  of  the  place  where  I 
went  to  seek  education.  I  must  therefore  impose 
upon  you  a  frequent,  though  I  hope  not  undiscrim- 
inating,  eulogy  of  the  Old  Country.  Nor  am  I 
sorry  to  have  this  opportunity  so  to  do.  I  am  not 
proposing  to  defend  her  conduct  in  the  first  years 
of  the  war.     I  believe  it  to  be  indefensible,  though 


LECTURE   I.  6 

not  perhaps  inexcusable.  Even  the  excuses  which 
might  be,  which  are  given  by  intelligent  English- 
men, I  will  not  go  through  here.  But  is  it  fair,  is 
it  just,  is  it  overcoming  evil  with  good,  to  indulge 
in  indiscriminate  and  fanatical  abuse  of  a  great 
nation,  because  her  conduct  to  us  has  been  ill- 
judged  and  selfish  ?  We  blame  the  editorials  of 
the  Times ;  have  not  our  own  newspapers  been 
rapidly  bringing  their  criticisms  on  foreign  affairs 
to  the  standard  of  the  Times  ?  Are  we,  after  the 
reception  we  gave  the  Prince  of  Wales  in  1860, 
really  and  truly  prepared  to  make  Louis  Napoleon 
our  model  of  a  sovereign  instead  of  the  good 
Queen  Victoria  ?  Or  has  the  conduct  of  England 
in  the  present  war  altered  a  single  item  in  that 
domestic  life,  wherein  so  many  points  used  to  ex- 
cite our  admiration  and  love  ?  It  is  my  hope, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  that  I  may  succeed  in  in- 
teresting you  not  only  in  the  great  English 
University,  but  in  the  country  by  which  that 
University  is  supported,  and  to  which  it  gives  so 
much  of  her  strength  ;  and  that  as  I  have  fought 
in  England  for  the  country  of  my  birth,  I  may 
not  have  hard  work  to  fight  here  for  the  country 
that  extended  to  me  her  hospitality. 

It  is  remarked  of  the  Americans,  that  beginning 
their  national,  and  so  to  speak,  their  physical  exist- 
ence so  recently,  they  are  of  all  peoples  the  most 
eager  to  search  out  the  previous  history  of  all  that 
belongs  to    them  ;   to    know    all   about   everything 


4  ON   THE   CAM. 

American  as  it  was  before  it  became  American. 
The  chief  support  of  genealogists  in  England  is 
derived  from  Yankees,  who,  with  more  than  their 
native  inquisitiveness,  will  know  from  what  precise 
lovely  pasture  in  Northamptonshire  came  the  par- 
ticular John  Brown,  in  honor  of  whom  their  town 
is  called  Fairfield.  To  facilitate  these  researches,  an 
enterprising  and  ubiquitous  citizen  has  re-edited  the 
Massachusetts  Colonial  Records,  that  we  may,  at 
all  events,  get  our  ancestors  safe  as  far  back  as  the 
first  settlement.  I  extract  therefrom,  without  at- 
tempting to  do  justice  to  the  admirable  and  inge- 
nious orthography,  the  following  entries  :  — 

"  1637.  Nov.  15.  The  College  shall  be  at  New- 
town." 

"  1G38.  May  2.  Newtown  shall  be  called  Cam- 
bridge." 

And  why  Cambridge  ?  Why  should  one  of  the 
most  insignificant  of  English  boroughs  be  picked 
out  to  give  its  name  to  the  settlement,  where  such 
men  as  Winthrop  and  Leverett  seriously  thought 
of  establishing  the  seat  of  government  of  "  the  Mas- 
sachusetts  ?  "  —  the  town  whence  the  pioneers  of 
Springfield  departed  on  their  fourteen  days'  jour- 
ney to  the  Connecticut?  —  the  town  where  the 
first  printing-press  in  the  United  States  was  es- 
tablished ?  Was  not  Norwich,  the  second  city  in 
England,  or  York,  the  capital  of  the  North,  where 
Saltonstall  had  so  often  attended  the  assizes,  or 
Huntingdon,  the  home  of  their  beloved  Cromwell, 


LECTURE    I.  5 

or  Wendover,  of  the  still  more  honored  Hampden, 
worthier  of  commemoration  ?  Why  not  London 
itself,  a  name  which  John  Smith  had  vainly  sought 
to  fix  on  the  old  Bay  of  Dorchester  ?  It  is  the 
first  of  the  records  I  have  read  that  explains  the 
second.  The  college  was  to  be  at  Newtown. 
The  ancient  University,  where  most  of  our  pil- 
grim ancestors  had  tasted  of  the  sweets  of  learn- 
ing which  they  desired  to  perpetuate,  was  at  Cam- 
bridge in  England.  It  was  from  Cambridge  that 
John  Harvard  came  to  cast  in  his  lot  among  us. 
In  filial  and  grateful  remembrance  of  their  own 
Alma  Mater,  did  our  ancestors  give  the  name  of 
Cambridge  to  the  settlement  of  Newtown,  the  seat 
of  their  infant  college. 

I  am  sure,  my  honored  friends,  I  do  not  misin- 
terpret your  feelings  if  I  say  that  on  no  subject 
could  the  American  passion  for  historical  research 
be  more  eagerly  and  delightedly  exercised  than 
the  parentage  of  Harvard  College.  It  is  from  no 
common  interest  that  for  seven  generations  the 
wealth  of  Massachusetts  has  been  lavished  on  her, 
that  the  competition  of  her  halls  has  stimulated  the 
noblest  youth  of  our  city  and  our  country.  No 
common  share  of  our  hearts'  blood  must  be  in 
that  institution  that  has  sent  out  over  four  hun- 
dred children  to  light  in  their  country's  warfare, 
and  the  best  of  them  to  fall  in  siege  and  battle  and 
swamp  and  hospital.  When  Boston  forgets  Har- 
vard,   mav    her    right    hand    forget    its    cunning. 


6  ON  THE   CAM. 

When  she  remembers  not  her  ancient  univer- 
sity, may  her  tongue  cleave  to  the  roof  of  her 
mouth. 

And  since  we  delight  in  all  that  can  illustrate 
her  history,  —  since  it  is  our  boast  that  we  love  to 
cut  deeper,  year  after  year,  the  inscriptions  on  the 
graves  of  our  ancestors,  and  trace  with  eager- 
ness in  English  soil  the  roots  and  stock  which  have 
put  forth  the  branches  of  American  learning  and 
civilization,  —  since  we  Bostonians  boast  to  be  lib- 
eral and  cultivated  men  and  women,  enjoying  the 
study  of  any  place  where  good  and  wise  teachers 
of  vouth  have  been  wont  to  gather,  —  I  invite  you 
to  cross  the  water  with  me  to-night,  and  to  pass 
six  weeks  at  Cambridge  in  England.  We  shall 
study  its  history,  its  character,  its  prospects,  —  its 
studies  and  its  recreations,  its  fathers  and  its  sons, 
its  precepts  and  its  warnings.  Like  children  go- 
ing back  to  their  grandfather's  mansion,  we  shall 
run  through  the  rooms  where  our  fathers  were 
born  and  bred ;  we  shall  stroll  along  the  green 
turf  and  by  the  bright  streams  where  they  grew 
up ;  and  we  shall  stumble  upon  many  queer  nooks, 
winding  passages,  and  dark  closets,  some  of  them 
not  a  little  musty,  where  they  made  their  resort 
for  pleasure  or  punishment.  And  I  hope  that 
when  we  meet  some  of  our  cousins  there,  you  will 
take  them  affectionately  by  the  hand,  remember- 
ing the  relationship ;  for  they  have  for  four  years 
been  giving  a  hearty  welcome  to  their  American 


LECTURE  I.  7 

kinsman ;  taken  him  to  school  with  them,  and 
shared  with  him  their  bed  and  board ;  though  I 
admit  their  hospitality  did  not  prevent  their  charg- 
ing him  a  good  price.  And  if  you  do  not  come  back 
at  the  beginning  of  spring  with  love  to  Old  Cam- 
bridge in  your  hearts,  it  will  not  be  her  fault,  but 
mine. 

I  am  surprised  that  on  a  subject  so  interesting 
and  important  as  the  English  Universities,  scarcely 
anything  has  been  written  from  which  an  Ameri- 
can  can  derive  correct  ideas  of  them.  Le  Keux's 
magnificent  volumes  on  the  Architectural  History 
and  Memorials  of  Cambridge,  of  which  a  new  and 
enlarged  edition  has  lately  appeared,  seldom  finds 
its  way  into  American  libraries.  The  learned 
works  of  Huber  and  Hayward  are  rather  scientific 
discussions  than  popular  treatises.  The  meagre 
notices  of  novelists  and  magazine-writers  mislead 
on  exactly  the  points  where  they  seek  to  instruct. 
I  should  say,  from  what  observations  I  have  been 
able  to  make,  that  the  general  opinion  of  Ameri- 
cans is  as  follows.  There  is  in  England  a  college 
or  university,  the  terms  being  used  interchange- 
ably, situated  at  Oxford,  to  which  the  name  of 
( 'ambridge  is  occasionally  applied  ;  of  which  "  The 
Adventures  of  Mr.  Verdant  Green"  is  the  guide- 
book, published  by  official  authority ;  that  the 
young  men  wear  a  peculiar  dress,  of  which  the 
main  part  is  generally  known  as  the  Oxford  hat; 
that    studies  are    pursued,  standing   in   the  same 


8  ON   THE   CAM. 

relation  to  those  of  our  colleges  that  they  do  to 
those  of  our  public  schools  ;  that  the  undergradu- 
ates are,  on  an  average,  six  or  eight  years  older 
than  our  own ;  that  boating  is  practised,  the  least 
bit  inferior  to  ours ;  that  the  Articles  of  the 
Church  of  England  are  frequently  signed  by  all 
the  members  of  this  college,  —  Oxford  College, 
sometimes  called  Cambridge  •  and  that  it  is  in- 
fested  by  a  swarm  of  things  called  Lords,  who 
make  the  necks  of  the  other  students  their  habitual 
promenade.  I  have  stated  all  this  not  as  a  carica- 
ture, but  as  what  I  honestly  believe  to  be  a  fair 
exposition  of  the  opinion  held  by  a  majority  of 
Americans,  as  far  as  they  have  any  opinion  at  all, 
of  the  great  fountains  of  English  learning.  Now, 
it  is,  in  fact,  hardly  more  correct  than  the  state- 
ment of  a  writer  in  All  the  Year  Hound,  that  the 
horse-railroad  passed  by  the  house  of  the  poet 
Longfellow  to  the  beautiful  rural  cemetery  on  the 
banks  of  the  Schuylkill.  Cambridge  is  not  Oxford, 
and  Oxford  is  not  Cambridge.  The  dress  of  the 
students  at  the  two  places  is  as  different  as  the 
uniforms  of  army  and  navy  ;  their  head-dress  is 
never  known  as  an  Oxford  hat,  and  the  wearers 
are  in  general  about  a  year  and  a  half  older  than 
our  students.  What  is  the  value  of  their  studies 
and  their  exercise,  as  compared  with  ours,  I  shall 
have  occasion  to  state  shortly  ;  but  any  person  can  t 
enter,  and  take  his  bachelor's,  and  at  Cambridge 
his  master's  degree,  without  any  oath  or  subscrip- 


LECTURE   I.  9 

tion  whatsoever,  —  whether  connected  with  the 
Church  or  State  of  England.  "  Verdant  Green  " 
wras  written  by  a  graduate  of  neither  university,  — 
it  is  a  very  shallow,  imperfect  picture  of  a  certain 
style  of  Oxford  life  ;  and  a  lord,  with  the  under- 
graduates, is  a  man.  And  all  these  errors  are  the 
more  unjustifiable,  because  there  is  one  book,  giv- 
ing, as  far  as  Cambridge  goes,  a  capital  account 
of  the  English  university  system,  at  once  full, 
accurate,  and  lively  beyond  any  work  I  know.  I 
allude  to  Mr.  C.  A.  Bristed's  excellent  work, 
"  Five  Years  in  an  English  University."  I  shall 
doubtless  have  frequent  occasion  to  recur  to  the 
obligations  I  am  under  to  this  book.  Its  plates 
were  most  unfortunately  destroyed  in  the  Harpers' 
fire.  Had  it  not  been  out  of  print,  my  occupation 
here  would  be  gone. 

Perhaps  the  reason  why  we  have  had  no  good 
account,  except  Bristed's,  of  an  English  university 
in  comparison  with  the  flood  of  information  about 
the  German  system,  though  even  that  is  very  im- 
perfectly understood,  is,  that  so  few  Americans 
have  ever  pursued  their  studies  at  one.  This  has 
arisen  from  several  causes.  The  expense  of  living 
in  England,  —  various  difficulties,  great,  but  not 
insuperable,  in  the  way  of  a  foreigner's  residence 
at  Oxford  or  Cambridge,  —  the  desire  to  reside  in 
some  Continental  town,  to  learn  the  language, — 
and  a  general  persuasion  that  English  scholars  are 
inferior  to  German,  and  English  people  inferior  to 
1  ' 


10  ON   THE   CAM. 

brutes, — lias  deterred  all  but  a  very  few  Ameri- 
cans from  seeking  the  Alma  Mater  of  their  fathers, 
the  fountain  from  which  their  own  streams  of 
learning  had  flowed.  I  cannot  think  there  is  any 
American  who  has  encountered  the  ordeal,  but 
has  been  thankful  he  did  so.  And  now  that  all 
disabilities  to  the  residence  of  foreigners  at  Ox- 
ford or  Cambridge  are  removed,  I  trust  an  Ameri- 
can student  will  never  again  be  a  subject  for 
Punch's  celebrated  caricature,  representing  a  tall 
and  lanky  youth  dressed  in  stars  and  stripes,  ac- 
costed by  a  short  and  stout  proctor  thus :  — 

"Sir  —  you  are  smoking  a  cigar  in   the  High 
Street  of  Oxford  ! ! " 

"  Guess  I  could  have  told  you  that,  old  hoss." 
Since,  then,  I  have  the  honor  to  be  one  of  few 
who  have  seen  the  old  Lady  in  her  best  parlor, 
her  dining-room,  her  bed-chambers,  and  her  school- 
room, let  me  lay  the  foundations  of  her  house  cor- 
rectly. I  repeat — Cambridge  is  not  Oxford,  and 
Oxford  is  not  Cambridge.  To  prevent  all  further 
danger  of  confusion,  I  would  call  your  attention 
to  the  fact,  that  these  two  university  towns  are 
almost  exactly  as  far  apart  as  our  two  university 
towns  of  Providence  and  Hartford,  and  that  the 
generally  travelled  route  from  Cambridge  to  Lon- 
don, and  from  London  bv  Reading  to  Oxford,  is  not 
unlike  a  journey  from  Providence  to  New  London 
or  Stonington,  and  thence  by  New  Haven  to  Hart- 
ford.    I  hope  in  the  course  of  these  lectures  to  find 


LECTURE   I.  11 

space  for  a  few  words  concerning  Oxford.  Suffice 
it  at  present  to  say  that  the  two  great  universities 
of  England  are  generous  rivals  in  wealth  and  learn- 
ing, equally  matched,  full  of  mutual  respect,  each 
convinced  of  its  own  superiority,  and  each  confi- 
dent that  the  other  is  vastly  superior  to  any  third 
place  of  learning  in  the  world. 

But  if  Cambridge  claims  to  be  the  equal  of  Ox- 
ford, it  must  be  exclusively  from  its  academic  pre- 
tensions. The  two  towns  are  far  from  being  a 
match.  Oxford  is  one  of  the  most  picturesque  of 
England's  old  cathedral  cities,  and  one  of  the  most 
active  of  its  modern  county  capitals,  situated  too 
on  the  banks  of  its  noblest  river,  in  the  bosom  of  a 
fine  range  of  hills,  and  in  the  immediate  vicinity 
of  some  of  the  most  beautiful  and  famous  localities 
in  Britain.  Sport  and  love,  politics  and  warfare, 
Little  John  and  Fair  Rosamond,  Charles  the  First 
and  Marlborough,  have  left  their  memorials  at  its 
very  threshold.  Cambridge,  on  the  contrary,  is 
of  all  provincial  English  boroughs  the  most  insio;- 
nificant,  the  dullest  and  the  ugliest.  It  is  at  once 
the  last  town  on  the  chalk,  and  the  first  on  the 
fen,  —  a  combination  admirable  for  raising  wheat, 
but  wholly  at  variance  with  beauty  of  all  kinds. 
An  endless  expanse  of  marsh,  cut  up  by  long- 
drawn  reaches  of  sluggish  brooks,  bordered  with 
pollard  willows  and  unhappy  poplars,  forms  the 
prospect  of  the  lowlands.  On  the  south,  a  mix- 
ture of  chalk  and  flint  rises  into  a  slope  of  a  few 


12  ON   THE   CAM. 

hundred  feet  high,  dignified  by  the  title  of  the 
Gogmagog  Hills,  without  a  tree  or  a  tower,  or  in- 
deed anything  to  break  the  outline  bxit  some  wind- 
mills and  an  insane  asylum.  Near  the  foot  of  this 
molework,  and  through  the  melancholy  of  these 
marshes,  creeps  what  seems  a  forgotten  canal,  no- 
where over  seventy  feet  wide,  with  a  few  locks 
and  half  a  hundred  black  barges  ;  —  and  this  you 
are  informed  is  the  river  Cam,  whence  Cambridge. 
Here  and  there  on  its  banks  are  clustered  the  cot- 
tages of  little  hamlets,  ugly  towards  the  fen  side, 
prettier  towards  the  chalk,  and  now  and  then 
cropping  out  into  groves  and  gardens,  millpools, 
weirs  affording  presage  of  trout,  and  all  of  a  cosy, 
household  kind  of  beauty,  quite  enrapturing  in 
such  a  waste  of  dullness.  The  site  of  one  mill, 
otherwise  as  commonplace  as  its  fellows,  has  been 
immortalized,  for,  says  Chaucer, — 

"  At  Trompington,  not  far  from  Cantabrigge 
Ther  goth  a  brook,  and  over  it  a  brigge, 
Upon  the  whiehe  brook  ther  stout  a  melle  ; 
(Now  this  is  very  sothe  that  you  I  tell.)  " 

Though  if  very  sothe  were  told,  the  mill  is  just 
over  the  border  in  Granchester,  the  next  parish  to 
Trumpington.  The  chalk  country  of  Cambridge 
is  in  no  way  remarkable.  It  is  the  last  out-crop- 
ping spur  of  the  great  calcareous  range  that  fills 
up  the  southeastern  corner  of  England,  abound- 
ing in  those  curious  fossils  called  Coprolites,  which 
are  very  extensively  worked  as  a  fertilizer  by  the 
Cambridge  peasants. 


LECTURE   I.  13 

But  the  fen  or  Isle  of  Ely,  on  whose  extreme 
southern  limit  stands  Cambridge,  is  one  of  the 
most  singular  features  of  Great  Britain.  It  is  the 
great  estuary  of  the  Ouse  and  the  Nen  rivers, 
whose  quaint  Saxon  names  are  connected  with  the 
history  of  some  of  our  most  honored  heroes,  for  it 
was  by  the  banks  of  the  Ouse  that  the  gentlest  of 
poets,  William  Cowper,  took  his  daily  walk,  and 
the  Xen  in  its  course  through  Northampton  parts 
at  equal  distances  of  a  few  miles  the  towns  of 
Ecton  and  Sulgrave,  the  ancestral  seats  of  the 
families  of  Franklin  and  Washington.  The  Isle 
of  Ely  is  the  vast  accumulation  of  mud  and  peat 
brought  down  by  these  rivers,  and  deposited,  like 
the  delta  of  the  Nile,  just  at  the  point  where  the 
German  Ocean  flings  its  fiercest  tides  on  the  east 
coast  of  England.  It  is  in  fact  perfectly  described 
as  a  bit  of  Holland  in  the  centre  of  England,  and 
the  Saxon  name  of  Holland,  or  hollow  land,  is  still 
retained  by  a  similar  tract  in  Lincolnshire.  The 
primitive  condition  of  the  Isle  of  Ely  is  admirably 
described  by  Lord  Macaulay  in  the  eleventh  chap- 
ter of  his  immortal  history.  One  feature  he  there 
commemorates  must  not  be  omitted  here.  On  the 
largest  of  the  knolls  of  solid  earth,  originally 
islands,  which  here  and  there  stud  the  marsh,  a 
few  thousand  sonls  are  gathered  around  the  glori- 
ous cathedral  of  Ely,  still  one  of  the  most  magnifi- 
cent Gothic  shrines  in  England,  though  a  great 
part   of  the  west   end    appears   to   have   been    de- 


14  ON   THE   CAM. 

stroyed.  Its  majestic  towers  are  a  landmark  for 
miles,  in  spite  of  the  atmosphere  of  the  fens,  noted 
for  its  heaviness  and  moisture  even  in  England. 
In  the  course  of  the  last  two  hundred  years,  the 
enterprise  of  various  great  proprietors,  particularly 
the  noble  house  of  Russell,  Dukes  of  Bedford,  has 
converted  the  fen  of  Ely  into  a  field  of  inexhaust- 
ible agricultural  wealth.  The  sea  is  kept  out  by 
dikes,  which,  however,  are  not  always  adequate. 
In  the  year  1862,  one  of  the  sluiceways  burst,  and 
flooded  the  lower  part  of  the  fen,  so  that  people 
came  from  all  the  neighboring  counties  to  watch 
the  devastations  of  the  tide  as  a  spectacle.  Six- 
teen miles  south  of  Ely  the  fen  terminates,  almost 
at  the  foot  of  another  landmark,  less  lofty  than  the 
cathedrals,  but  contesting  with  all  of  them,  in  spite 
of  Ruskin's  glittering  paradoxes,  the  palm  for  per- 
fection of  proportion,  simplicity  of  design,  and  ele- 
gance of  detail,  —  the  chapel  of  King's  College, 
(of  which  the  library  of  Harvard  is  not,  as  some 
persons  suppose,  an  exact  copy,  but  quite  the  re- 
verse,) whose  pinnacles,  146  feet  high,  mark,  for 
all  the  fen,  the  site  of  Cambridge. 

I  have  said  that  Cambridge  is  an  insignificant 
and  ugly  town.  Its  population  is  not  far  from  that 
of  our  own  Cambridge,  between  twenty  and  twen- 
ty-five thousand,  and  the  space  it  covers  is  much 
less.  Being  the  capital  of  an  entirely  agricultural 
country,  it  wants  the  bustle  of  a  mining  district 
and  the  enterprise  and  progress  of  a  manufactur- 


LECTURE  I.  15 

ing  one.  It  seems  to  have  stagnated  for  three 
hundred  years,  seeing  new  articles  in  the  shops, 
and  new  faces  in  the  streets,  and  occasionally  some 
new  houses,  only  because  the  population  was  larger. 
Its  streets  are  too  crooked  to  be  convenient  or  im- 
posing, and  not  crooked  enough  to  be  picturesque. 
The  buildings  are  mostly  of  bricks  baked  of  the 
local  clay,  which  is  of  a  dirty  white,  relieved  by 
occasional  touches  of  dingy  red,  and  all,  to  use  Dr. 
Holmes's  admirable  classification,  of  no  particular 
order  of  architecture  but  their  own.  Here  and 
there  a  building  in  the  white  freestone  of  the  neigh- 
borhood would  be  really  ornamental,  were  it  not 
for  the  uniform  pall  of  coal-smoke  that  blackens 
evervthing  in  an  English  market-town,  and  is  in 
Cambridge  rendered  doubly  swarthy  by  the  con- 
densations of  the  marsh  fog.  Its  churches,  on 
which  English  towns  mainly  depend  to  relieve 
their  architectural  sameness,  are  by  no  means  un- 
sightly, but  on  very  commonplace  models,  with 
one  exception,  the  beautiful  little  round  church 
of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  often  known  as  St.  Sep- 
ulchre's. It  is  one  of  four  in  England  which  the 
Knight  Templars  built  in  a  circular  form,  to  com- 
memorate the  shape  of  the  Sepulchre  in  Jeru- 
salem. When  Brian  de  Bois-Guilbert  travelled 
northward,  he  undoubtedly  first  paid  his  vows  at 
the  round  Temple  Church  in  London  ;  on  the  first 
stag'  from  London,  he  would  arrive  at  the  round 
church  in  Essex  ;  the  second  would  take  him  to 


16  ON   THE   CAM. 

this  at  Cambridge  ;  the  fourth  would  bring  him  to 
one  in  Northamptonshire,  and  fqr  the  rest  of  his 
journey  to  Rotherwood  he  would  have  to  content 
himself  with  a  sanctuary  not  on  the  Templar 
model. 

Two  monuments  in  Cambridge  deserve  further 
notice.  One  is  a  mound  of  earth,  about  a  hun- 
dred feet  high,  known  as  the  Castle  Hill,  and 
affording  a  capital  view  of  the  town,  and  yet  en- 
tirely artificial.  It  was,  however,  sufficiently  in- 
corporated with  the  soil  for  Cromwell  to  put  some 
cannon  on,  as  he  did  to  almost  every  hill,  natural 
or  artificial,  in  England.  The  other  was  for- 
merly an  ornamental  stone  conduit  in  the  market- 
place, though  now  removed  to  the  court  end  of 
the  town,  and  was  the  gift  of  old  Hobson,  for- 
merly carrier  from  London  to  Cambridge,  and 
the  cause  of  the  celebrated  saying  of  Hobson's 
choice.  He  has  been  commemorated  by  Milton 
in  two  capital  jeux  d'esprit,  which  I  commend  to 
your  reperusal. 

Cambridge  has  always  been  known  as  a  queer 
town.  It  stands  half-way  between  the  Eastern 
counties,  viz.  Norfolk,  Suffolk,  and  Essex,  and 
the  shires,  or  central  part  of  England.  It  par- 
takes of  the  traits  of  both,  although,  in  my  expe- 
rience, the  brisk,  enterprising  character  of  the 
shires  was  wholly  sunk  in  the  stolid,  painstaking, 
loamy  nature  of  the  Eastern  counties,  the  part 
of  England,  I  would  remind  you,  whence  Massa- 


LECTURE   I.  17 

chusetts  was  chiefly  colonized.  I  suppose  with 
their  Puritan  element  was  exiled  their  wit.  Bos- 
ton will  like  Cambridge  none  the  less  for  having 
a  great  many  notions.  Of  these  I  will  only  men- 
tion one,  that  Cambridge  butter  is  sold  by  the 
yard.  Further,  for  the  information  of  travellers, 
the  Bull  is  the  best  hotel,  and  in  all  parts  of  the 
town  the  sausages  are  unexceptionable. 

So  much  for  the  town  of  Cambridge.  If  my 
description  is  dull,  that  proves  its  accuracy.  But 
this  sombre  setting  does  but  heighten  the  exceed- 
ing  lustre  of  the  jewel  it  enchases,  the  brilliant, 
the  honored,  the  glorious  University.  And  as  I 
have  occupied  so  long  time  in  showing  that  Cam- 
bridge is  Cambridge,  and  not  Oxford,  let  me  dis- 
pel another  error  in  American  opinion.  The  in- 
stitution at  Cambridge  is  a  university,  and  not  a 
college.  There  is  no  such  body  as  Cambridge 
College  or  Oxford  College.  The  great  corpora- 
tion, comprising  at  present  (1863)  7,92*2  persons, 
who  in  some  sort  or  other  retain  active  connection 
with  it,  of  which  1,581  are  undergraduates,  famil- 
iarly known  as  Cambridge,  affectionately  as  Alma 
Mater,  is  officially  designated  as  the  Chancellor, 
Masters,  and  Scholars  of  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge. It  confers  degrees,  awards  prizes,  holds 
examinations,  and  assigns  rank  in  accordance  with 
their  result;  elects  members  to  Parliament;  by  the 
mouth  of'  its  professors  and  other  officers  delivers 
public  lectures  and  sermons,  and  by  the  authority 


18  ON   THE  CAM. 

of  its  proctors  and  others  pronounces  judicial  de- 
cisions in  a  court  peculiarly  its  own.  It  gives  no 
personal  instruction,  appoints  no  hours  of  study, 
conducts  no  religious  exercises  of  a  devotional 
character;  and,  herein  differing  from  Oxford,  en- 
forces no  special  dress.  In  general,  it  exercises 
no  immediate  authority  over  the  students  who 
share  its  privileges.  Furthermore,  it  is  distinctly 
not  a  rich  body,  —  so  much  so  that  its  professors' 
salaries,  not  on  special  foundations,  are  very  mea- 
gre, and  a  material  item  in  its  income  are  the  fines 
of  about  one  dollar  and  seventy-five  cents  —  reck- 
oned in  gold  —  which  are  levied  for  breaches  of 
such  discipline  as  it  does  enforce.  The  wealth, 
the  instruction,  the  personal  authority,  is  all  in  the 
hands  of  the  colleges,  —  bodies  distinct  from  the 
university,  though  constantly  in  America  con- 
founded with  it.     To  them  let  us  now  turn. 

The  colleges  at  Cambridge  are  seventeen  in 
number ;  at  Oxford,  I  think,  twenty-four.  They 
are,  for  all  purposes  of  internal  organization,  as 
distinct  as  Harvard  and  Yale,  or  as  two  public 
schools  in  Boston.  They  differ  in  wealth,  in  pres- 
tige, and  in  the  number  of  their  members,  the 
largest  at  Cambridge  having  more  than  twice  as 
many  as  the  next  largest ;  at  Oxford  they  are 
more  on  an  equality.  They  differ  also  in  the  date 
of  their  foundation,  and  the  University,  that  is 
the  separate  body  of  men  professing  a  literary 
life,  is  older  than  any  of  them.     A  university,  in 


LECTURE   I.  19 

fact,  is  not,  as  the  wise  modern  Greeks  at  Ath- 
ens have  translated  it,  a  universal  knowledge- 
shop  ;  it  is  the  whole  body  of  men  professing  one 
trade  in  one  place.  What  we  call  guilds  or  com- 
panies of  masons,  shoemakers,  lawyers,  were  in 
mediaeval  phrase  called  Universities.  All  similar 
bodies,  who  monopolized  the  instruction  of  youth 
in  their  particular  trade  had  two  grades,  the  first 
being  apprentices  or  students,  who  worked  seven 
years,  and  then  were  advanced  to  the  second  grade 
of  master-workmen.  The  Universities  par  excel- 
lence were  those  where  learned  men  studied  and 
taught  the  seven  liberal  arts  or  sciences,  viz.  gram- 
mar, rhetoric,  logic,  music,  arithmetic,  geometry, 
and  astronomy.  After  an  apprentice  to  the  Muses 
had  studied  four  years,  he  was  advanced  to  the 
grade  of  Bachelor  of  Arts,  —  a  term  of  uncertain 
derivation.  He  could  then  lecture  on  what  he 
knew,  but  could  not  leave  his  place  of  education. 
After  three  years  more  he  became  a  Master  of  the 
liberal  arts,  and  might  profess  them  anywhere  he 
pleased.  Still  further,  the  degree  of  Bachelor  in 
the  arts  of  Theology,  Medicine,  Law,  and  Music 
was  specially  awarded,  and  after  long  standing  a 
peculiar  proficient  received  tin;  formal  and  eini- 
nentlv  honorable  title  of  Doctor  ;  and  his  gown, 
black  through  all  previous  degrees,  became  red  or 
purple.  These  two  learned  guilds  of  workmen 
and  students  in  the  liberal  arts  were  established  at 
Cambridge   and  Oxford  from  a  very  early  period. 


20  ON   THE   CAM. 

Oxford  says  she  was  founded  by  King  Alfred,  — 
Cambridge  says  she  was  founded  by  Augustine. 
Each  University  thereupon  adduces  its  own  series 
of  distinguished  men,  among  whom  St.  Paul  and 
Dionysius  the  Areopagite  are  the  most  noted, 
carrying  the  pei'iod  of  foundation,  first  for  one, 
and  then  for  the  other  into  more  and  more  remote 
antiquity,  till,  finally,  there  is  actually  standing 
in  Cambridge,  but  on  ground  belonging  to  one 
of  the  colleges  at  Oxford,  an  ancient  house  known 
as  the  school  of  Pythagoras,  —  and  that  settles 
the  question.  Be  the  date  as  it  may,  learned  men 
assembled  to  study  at  the  two  Universities  long 
before  any  Colleges  were  founded  for  board,  lodg- 
ing, and  private  instruction.  Listen  to  the  long 
line  of  illustrious  founders  of  Colleges,  kino-s  and 
queens  and  prelates,  as  they  roll  down  the  sonorous 
lines  of  England's  most  classic  bard. 

"  But  hark  !  the  portals  sound,  and  pacing  forth 

With  solemn  steps  and  slow, 
High  potentates,  and  dames  of  royal  birth, 

And  mitred  fathers  in  long  order  go  : 
Great  Edward,  with  the  lilies  on  his  brow 
From  haughty  Gallia  torn, 
And  sad  Chatillon,  on  her  bridal  morn 
That  wept  her  bleeding  love,  and  princely  Clare, 

And  Anjou's  heroine,  and  the  paler  Rose, 

The  rival  of  her  crown  and  of  her  woes, 
And  either  Henry  there, 
The  murdered  saint,  and  the  majestic  lord, 
That  broke  the  bonds  of  Home." 

The   earliest  existing   college   at  Cambridge   is 


LECTURE   I.  21 

St.  Peter's,  generally  called  Peterhouse,  histori- 
cally founded  A.  D.  1257,  in  the  reign  of  Henry 
III.  The  Universities  are  known  merely  by  their 
situation  ;  as  Oxford,  Cambridge,  Durham,  St. 
Andrews'  ;  but  each  college  has  a  name,  accord- 
ing to  the  taste  of  its  founder  or  first  members. 
These  names  may  be  divided  into  two  classes, 
those  named  from  the  founder,  as  Pembroke, 
Clare,  Gonville  and  Caius  (this  had  two  founders, 
the  restorer  being  Dr.  Kaye,  who  Latinized  his 
name  into  Caius,  always  pronounced  Keys), 
King's  (from  King  Henry  VI.),  —  Queens'  (from 
the  queens  both  of  Henry  VI.  and  Edward  IV.), 
Sidney  Sussex,  and  Downing  ;  —  and  those  named 
for  beatified  persons  and  objects  of  worship,  —  St. 
Peter's,  St.  John's,  St.  Catharine's,  St.  Mary 
Magdalene,  Corpus  Christi,  Emmanuel,  Jesus, 
Christ's,  Trinity,  and  Trinity  Hall.  The  apparent 
impiety  of  these  names,  which  in  one  case  of  an 
ancient  name  now  changed,  was  absolutely  re- 
volting, entirely  passes  off  with  a  few  days'  use. 
St.  Catharine's  soon  becomes  Cats,  and  St.  Mary 
Magdalene  is  always  called  Maudlin.  You  readily 
admit  the  superiority  of  Trinity  over  Corpus  ale; 
go  to  see  a  friend  who  lives  on  Christ's  piece  ;  and 
hear  with  regret,  that  in  the  boat  races  Emmanuel 
has  been  bumped  by  Jesus  ;  an  epithet  being 
probablv  prefixed  to  the  last  name.  These  names 
of  course  were  given  in  monkish  times,  —  Trinity 
by  Henrv  VIII.,  but  all  the  colleges  except  one 
were    i'.>!!i,(]   <!    '-!'!'■'    the    reicn    of  James    I. 


22  ON  THE   CAM. 

When  our  ancestors  voted  in  1636  to  establish 
a  college  in  New  England,  there  is  every  reason 
to  believe  that  they  contemplated  a  seat  of  learn- 
ing on  the  English  plan.  All  the  earlier  constitu- 
tions and  laws  speak  to  that  effect.  The  little  ark 
of  literature  on  the  wild  waves  of  our  colonial  his- 
tory, was  constituted  like  an  English  college. 
John  Harvard,  who  was  a  graduate  of  Cambridge 
University,  having  generously  given  half  his  for- 
tune, the  college  at  Newtown  or  Cambridge  was 
called  after  him  Harvard  College,  just  as  Sidney 
Sussex  and  Pembroke  Colleges  had  been  named 
after  two  noble  ladies  Sidney,  Lady  Sussex,  and 
the  Countess  of  Pembroke,  who  had  been  their 
respective  founders.  Had  subsequent  benefactors, 
instead  of  increasing  Harvard's  college,  founded 
others  of  their  own  in  the  same  University,  each 
would  have  had  its  own  name,  and  the  University 
have  embraced  all.  The  State  Constitution  speaks 
not  of  Harvard,  but  of  the  University  at  Cam- 
bridge. But  no  other  college  having  been  set  up 
at  Cambridge,  and  Harvard's  foundation  being  en- 
riched with  professors'  chairs,  and  exercising  Uni- 
versity powers,  the  affection  for  his  memory  has 
invented  the  monstrous  and  incongruous  name  of 
Harvard  University,  an  anomalous  designation, 
warranted  by  neither  statute  nor  precedent,  Eng- 
lish or  American.  In  Germany  there  is  some  ex- 
ample of  such  a  designation. 

The  seventeen  colleges,  then,  are  distinct  corpo- 


LECTURE   I.  23 

rations.  Their  foundations,  resources,  buildings, 
governing  authorities  and  students,  are  entirely 
separate  from  each  other.  Nor  has  any  one  col- 
lege the  least  control  in  any  other.  The  plan, 
however,  is  much  the  same  in  all.  The  presiding 
authority  is  in  most  cases  called  the  Master,  or 
speaking  more  generally,  the  Head  ;  while  the 
net  proceeds  of  all  the  college  funds  —  for  the 
vast  wealth  supposed  to  belong  to  the  University 
really  is  in  the  hands  of  the  separate  colleges  — 
are  distributed  among  certain  of  the  graduates, 
called  Fellows,  who  with  the  Head  constitute  the 
corporation.  These  corporations  give  board  and 
lodging  on  various  terms  to  such  students  as  choose 
to  enter  the  college  and  comply  with  its  rules,  in 
order  to  receive  its  assistance  in  obtaining  the  hon- 
ors of  the  University  ;  and  each  college  offers  its 
own  peculiar  inducements  to  students.  When  the 
Prince  of  WaJes  came  to  pass  a  year  or  more  at 
Cambridge,  and  entered  his  name  on  the  books  of 
Trinity  College,  the  rush  there  was  so  great  that 
the  authorities  were  at  last  obliged  to  decline  to 
take  any  more  ;  whereby  less  noted  colleges  reaped 
a  rich  harvest  from  the   unaccepted  overflow. 

To  enforce  discipline  each  college  chooses  offi- 
cers called  deans,  and  for  the  general  purposes  of 
instruction  and  management,  tutors,  i.  e.  persons 
clothed  with  extensive  discretionary  power,  through 
whose  hands  all  the  real  undergraduate  business 
passes,  and  who  occupy  a  much  more  exalted  posi- 


24  ON   THE  CAM. 

tion  than  our  tutors,  being  in  fact  the  guardians 
appointed  for  the  young  men  during  their  absence 
from  home.  They  appoint  assistant  tutors,  not 
necessarily  members  of  the  colleges,  to  give  addi- 
tional instniction.  There  is  moreover  within  the 
college  precincts  a  perfect  army  of  butlers,  stew- 
ards, cooks,  bedmakers,  porters,  and  other  servants 
innumerable.  Each  college  holds  lectures  and  ex- 
aminations, awards  prizes,  and  at  stated  intervals 
elects  certain  scholars,  from  the  students  of  ability 
and  industry,  but  not  necessarily  of  limited  means, 
—  who  thereupon  derive  direct  pecuniary  advanta- 
ges from  the  funds  of  the  college.  Each  college 
makes  its  own  requirements  of  its  students,  pre- 
scribes within  certain  limits  the  time  of  their  resi- 
dence, fixes  its  own  hours  and  its  own  peculiar 
variety  on  the  general  type  of  Academic  dress. 
I  have  said  the  colleges  differ  in  prestige.  This 
may  seem  singular,  when  they  all  have  nearly,  if 
not  quite,  an  equal  share  of  the  University  privi- 
leges. It  is  not  merely  dependent  on  their  wealth 
and  the  proficiency  of  their  graduates.  It  is  more- 
over constantly  fluctuating.  A  college  that  twenty 
years  ago  ranked  as  third  in  numbers  and  consid- 
eration, is  now  eighth  or  ninth,  notwithstanding 
some  men  of  very  superior  attainments  have  re- 
cently been  connected  with  it.  Of  late  years 
Trinity  and  St.  John's  have  shot  far  ahead  of  all 
others,  and  Trinity  far  ahead  of  St.  John's,  in  the 
general  opinion  entertained  by  the  public. 


LECTURE   I.  25 

The  whole  body  of  the  colleges,  taken  together, 
constitutes  the  University.  All  those  who  after 
residing  seven  years  at  some  college,  have  taken 
the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts,  or  a  higher  one,  and 
keep  their  name  on  the  college  lists  by  a  small 
payment,  vote  at  the  University  elections  for  mem- 
bers of  Parliament  and  all  other  officers,  and  man- 
age its  affairs  :  while  all  the  undergraduates  and 
bachelors  of  arts  residing  at  the  colleges,  together 
constitute  the  persons  in  statu  pupillari  of  the 
University,  have  the  right  to  compete  for  its  hon- 
ors, and  are  amenable  to  its  rules  of  conduct.  The 
colleges,  at  certain  intervals,  present  such  students 
as  comply  with  their  conditions  to  University  au- 
thorities for  matriculation,  for  certain  examinations, 
and  for  the  reception  of  degrees  ;  and  until  one 
receives  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts,  he  must 
remain  a  member  of  some  college,  not  necessarily 
one  and  the  same,  to  hold  any  University  privi- 
leges. After  this  stage,  he  may,  under  certain 
conditions,  break  up  all  his  college  connections, 
and  yet  remain  in  the  University  ;  and  so  if  the 
college  sees  fit,  he  may,  before  taking  a  degree,  or 
even  before  matriculation,  remain  at  his  college, 
enjoying  many  of  its  advantages,  and  yet  having 
nothing  to  do  with  the  University.  Still  further: 
the  prominent  men  at  each  college  are,  as  might 
be  supposed,  likely  to  be  the  prominent  men  in 
the  whole  University  ;  and  the  Vice-Chancellor,  or 
acting  head  of  the  Universitv,  is  chosen  in  rotation 


26  ON   THE   CAM. 

from  the  heads  of  the  colleges.  Once  more :  there 
are  a  great  many  learned  men  living  at  Cambridge, 
to  give  instruction  to  such  pupils  as  seek  it,  in  all 
departments,  after  severing  entirely  all  connection 
with  both  college  and  University,  but  preferring 
to  remain  in  a  place  where  their  early  associations 
all  gather,  where  their  friends  still  reside,  where 
their  publications  will  find  intelligent  readers  and 
critics,  and  where  their  services  as  teachers  will  be 
in  the  greatest  demand,  and  command  the  highest 
premium. 

I  almost  despair  of  making  plain  this  compli- 
cated system,  so  different  both  from  the  pure  Uni- 
versity system  of  Germany,  and  from  the  pure 
College  system  of  America.  In  England  the  indi- 
vidual relations  of  a  young  man  are  all  with  his 
college,  except  perhaps  his  private  instructor  ; 
there  are  his  rooms,  his  commons  hall,  his  chapel, 
his  daily  lectures  ;  there  are  his  friends,  his  soci- 
eties, —  with  certain  exceptions,  —  his  boat  and 
cricket  clubs.  There  are  his  daily  and  weekly 
rewards  and  punishments  ;  there  his  successes  and 
failures,  and  his  prospects  for  either  known  and 
discussed ;  there  he  looks  for  a  fellowship  or  schol- 
arship, to  stamp  with  solid  advantage  the  compar- 
atively barren  honor  of  a  University  triumph. 
Thither  he  comes  as  a  Freshman,  thither  he  re- 
turns as  a  graybeard.  There  are  the  tutors  and 
deans,  the  object  of  his  daily  fear  and  aversion, 
and  there  the  junior  and  unofficial  authorities,  the 


LECTURE   I.  27 

objects  of  his  respect  and  confidence.  In  the  Uni- 
versity societies,  examinations,  prizes,  the  compe- 
tition is  to  a  considerable  extent  between  colleges 
rather  than  individuals,  and  the  hospitalities  be- 
tween members  of  different  colleges  are  very  apt 
to  have  a  formal  and  courtly  air,  at  variance  with 
the  easy  jollity  between  fellow  collegians.  The 
college  rivalries  and  connections  are  to  an  English 
University  what  the  class  system  is  to  us,  or  the 
fraternities  to  Germany :  sixteen  hundred  under- 
graduates, divided  between  seventeen  colleges, 
large  and  small,  make  about  the  same  divisions 
as  four  hundred  men  among  four  classes.  At 
Cambridge,  the  college  is  nearly  everything,  the 
University  very  little,  except  as  an  "  Arena  for  the 
exhibition  of  champions,"  or  as  the  diffuser  of  a 
common  standard  of  scholarship,  and  a  common 
tone  of  sentiment. 

But  shift  the  scene  to  England  and  the  world, 
and  all  is  changed.  It  is  Cambridge  and  Oxford, 
the  two  great  seats  of  learning,  that  make  their 
voices  heard  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of 
Britain  and  the  world.  No  one  cares  in  Parlia- 
ment, in  society,  on  the  continent,  or  in  the  uni- 
versal  brotherhood  of  literature,  if  a  man  comes 
from  Trinity  or  Corpus,  from  Balliol  or  Christ 
Church,  except  in  a  few  cases  of  personal  friend- 
ship. It  is  enough  that  he  belongs  to  the  great 
Universities  ;  one  the  home  of  Bacon  and  Newton 
and  Pitt  and   Macanlay,  the   other  of  Raleigh  and 


28  ON   THE   CAM. 

Locke  and  Chatham  and  Peel.  One  of  these 
very  great  men  tells  us  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, and  the  same  is  true  to  this  day :  "  To  be  a 
chancellor  of  a  University  was  a  distinction  eagerly 
sought  by  the  magnates  of  the  realm.  To  repre- 
sent a  University  in  Parliament  was  a  favorite 
object  of  the  ambition  of  statesmen.  Nobles  and 
even  princes  were  proud  to  receive  from  a  Univer- 
sity the  privilege  of  wearing  the  Doctoral  scarlet." 
The  last  chancellor  of  Cambridge  was  the  hus- 
band of  the  sovereign.  The  last  lord  steward,  the 
graduate  representing  her  interests  in  the  House 
of  Lords,  was  the  late  learned  and  venerable  Lord 
Lyndhurst.  One  of  the  recent  members  of  Par- 
liament is  the  astute  and  able  Palmerston,  and  one 
of  her  present  members  is  the  high-minded  and 
patriotic  Walpole,  the  Secretary  for  the  Home 
Department,  whenever  the  conservatives  rise  in 
power.  And  not  only  does  the  University  influ- 
ence rise  thus  high,  but  it  spreads  wide,  and  strikes 
deep  ;  its  graduates  are  diffused  throughout  the 
length  and  breadth  of  the  great  British  empire. 
The  Universities  are  the  bulwarks  of  the  Church, 
the  main  stay  of  the  government,  the  fountains  of 
learning.  For  these  great  objects,  they  draw  on 
the  energy  and  resources  of  all  the  colleges  alike, 
—  and  whenever  either  to  hold  fast  or  to  reform, 
to  originate  or  to  illustrate,  the  great  University 
spirit  arises,  the  whole  eight  thousand  graduates 
and   undergraduates  rise  together   to  maintain,  in 


LECTURE   I.  29 

life  and  in  death,  the  honor  and  glory  of  dear  old 
Oxford  or  Cambridge. 

I  said  I  despaired  of  exhibiting  to  you  in  its  full 
nature,  this  connection  and  separation  of  College 
and  University ;  and  yet  the  whole  world  is  full 
of  analogies.  The  college  is  like  the  town,  the 
University  like  the  nation  ;  the  college  is  like  the 
nation,  the  University  like  the  world.  The  college 
is  like  the  home,  the  University  like  the  com- 
munity. Our  principles,  our  work,  our  duties 
may  be  with  the  whole  ;  our  affections,  our  asso- 
ciations, our  recreations  are  with  the  part ;  and 
yet,  at  the  right  time,  our  most  anxious  cares  are 
with  the  part,  and  our  loftiest  affections  with  the 
whole.  Each  part  has  its  own  province,  and  each 
its  own  share  in  the  work  of  the  whole. 

And  forgive  me,  my  honored  friends,  if  to  make 
the  analogy  more  impressive,  I  have  delayed  so 
long  the  exact  parallel  which  must  ere  now  have 
forced  itself  upon  you.  I  need  not  tell  you,  I 
ought  not  to  tell  you,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  how 
several  corporate  bodies,  each  witli  its  individual 
wealth,  its  individual  jurisdiction,  its  own  peculiar 
laws,  ruling  its  own  citizens,  controlling  its  own 
affairs,  maintaining  its  own  honor,  may  yet  be 
associated  under  one  government,  where  each  part 
shall  have  its  own  co-ordinate  share,  "  for  the 
common  defence,  the  common  renown,  and  the 
common  glory,'"  in  one  indissoluble  whole.  It  is 
not   new  to  vou,  nor  is  it  a  strange;  freak  of  the 


30  ON   THE  CAM. 

English  Universities,  a  curious  phase  in  European 
institutions,  this  principle  of  the  many  in  one. 
Our  ancestors,  the  brave  soldiers,  the  wise  states- 
men, the  pious  divines,  who  founded  the  New 
England  colonies,  were  many  of  them  sons  of 
Oxford,  many  more  of  Cambridge.  They  had 
learnt  to  respect  and  to  love  in  their  Universities 
the  principle  of  independent  action  in  domestic 
affairs,  combined  with  mutual  defence  and  support 
for  the  good  of  the  whole.  They  could  have 
learnt  it  nowhere  else  ;  neither  in  the  dissensions 
of  Germany,  the  rebellions  of  France,  nor  the 
endless  feuds  of  the  British  Isles.  They  founded 
the  league  of  the  New  England  colonies  for  mu- 
tual  support ;  and  their  descendants  declared  the 
Independence  of  the  United  States  of  America. 

And  must  we  not  believe,  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
that  such  a  perfect  analogy  as  this,  will  in  time 
have  its  effect  upon  our  English  brethren  ?  It 
is  by  this  beautiful  system  of  federative  union 
that  their  two  great  seats  of  learning  have  for  six 
hundred  years  concentrated  in  themselves  the 
affection  of  tens  of  thousands  of  the  most  intelli- 
gent and  noble-hearted  men  in  England,  have 
stood  the  beacon-lights  of  learning  and  reason 
through   the   ages   of  darkness,   and  have    blazed 

©  ©  ' 

like  jewels  of  truth  in  the  glory  of  the  noon-day 
sun  of  modern  intelligence.  To  this  connection 
every  son   of  Cambridge  and  Oxford  clings  with 

J  ©  © 

the  utmost  tenacitv  of  the  English  nature.     The 


LECTUEE   I.  31 

name  so  dear  to  us  is  well  known  to  them  in  the 
two  great  clubs,  open  to  all  members  of  Oxford 
and  Cambridge,  and  known  as  the  "  Union  Debat- 
ing Society,"  or,  more  commonly,  the  "  Union  " 
alone.  Fond,  devoted  as  they  are,  when  college 
interests  are  at  stake,  they  are  ready  at  any  great 
crisis,  to  rise  as  one  man  to  defend  the  whole  Uni- 
versity. Let  us  draw  therefrom  this  aumirv  of 
peace  and  good  will  to  come  ;  that  when  the  cloud 
of  misrepresentation  and  deceit,  raised  by  emis- 
saries whose  true  nature  is  abhorrent  to  the  souls 
of  Englishmen,  has  blown  away,  and  the  pure 
azure  of  truth  returns,  their  hearts  and  voices  will 
unite  in  paying  to  us  the  long  deferred  tribute  of 
justice  and  applause  for  that  undying  devotion  to 
our  cause  which  they  have  hitherto  regarded  as 
misled  fanaticism,  as  wild  thirst  for  empire,  as 
senseless  passion  for  military  glory.  And  let  a 
still  nobler  and  loftier  union  of  England  and 
America  in  the  cause  of  freedom  be  inaugurated 
when  they  have  learnt  to  appreciate  the  impulse 
whereby  the  inhabitants  of  different  States,  sepa- 
rated not  by  the  walls  of  a  college,  but  bv  broad 
rivers  and  lofty  mountains,  have  poured  upon  one 
altar  their  wealth  and  their  blood,  have  sent  up 
in  one  acclaim  their  hearts'  prayer,  that  the  God 
of  our  fathers,  who  has  linked  us  by  nature,  bv 
kindred,  by  all  the  memories  of  the  past,  by  all 
the  hopes  of  the  future,  will  keep  us,  in  the  face 
of  the  whole  world,  one  unbroken,  inseparable 
people-. 


II. 


HISTORY   AND    OBJECTS    OF    CAMBRIDGE 
SCHOLARSHIP. 

Mediaeval  Scholarship  confined  to  the  Church.  —  Its 
Character.  —  Revival,  of  Greek  Literature.  —  Eras- 
mus Bentley.  —  The  Newtonian  Mathematics.  —  General 
Character  of  Cambridge  Scholarship.  —  Advantages 
in  a  University  Course  of  Mathematical  Study,  —  and 
of  Classical. 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen  :  — 

In  my  last  lecture  I  endeavored  to  present  to 
you  some  of  the  local  characteristics  of  the  town 
of  Cambridge,  and  also  some  description  of  the 
University,  of  its  connection  with  the  colleges,  and 
separation  from  them.  I  propose  in  the  present 
lecture,  to  go  a  little  more  at  length  into  the  con- 
stitution of  both  these  corporations,  and  particu- 
larly the  objects  of  their  original  establishment, 
and  of  their  present  existence. 

We  conceive  here  of  a  college  and  University 
almost  entirely  as  a  place  for  training  young  men. 
It  may  be  the  simplest  academy  in  the  Western 
country,  that  calls  its  head-master  President  and 
Professor  in  the  Ancient  and  Modern  Lantruao-es 
and  Physical  Science,  and  itself  Fremontville  or 
Felicity  College,  up  to  Harvard  and  Yale,  —  all 


LECTURE   II.  33 

purposes  besides  the  instruction  of  youth  are  made 
strictly  subordinate,  if  indeed  they  are  allowed  at 
all.  But  such  was  not  the  case  with  the  English 
Universities  at  their  foundation  ;  and  such  assur- 
edly is  not  the  case  now.  I  have  already  stated 
that  the  Universities  in  the  Middle  A^es  were  the 
guilds  or  companies  of  men  studying  the  liberal 
arts.  It  might  be  further  added,  that  they  were  a 
species  of  monastery,  where  the  vows  were  not 
perpetual.  We  commonly  say  that  in  the  Middle 
Ages  there  was  no  literature  out  of  the  Church. 
But  this  means  a  great  deal  more  than  we  at  first 
suppose.  Not  only  were  the  abodes  of  the  regular 
clergy  —  the  monasteries  —  the  only  places  where 
learning  was  kept  alive  through  the  early  barba- 
rism, but  when  the  men  of  literature  and  learning 
began  to  separate  from  the  monastic  order ;  when 
colleges  were  founded  where  scholars  could  study 
Aristotle  and  his  commentators  without  the  hair- 
shirt  and  the  cord,  the  almsirivino;  and  the  eternal 
seclusion,  —  still  the  ecclesiastical  spirit  governed 
all  their  actions.  Their  dress,  altered  from  the 
monastic,  still  approached  the  clerical.  In  fact 
these  very  words  clerk,  clerical,  clergy,  indi- 
cated equally  a  minister  of  religion,  and  a  man 
who  could  read  and  write.  As  soon,  however,  as 
tin's  first  great  step  was  taken,  —  getting  learning 
out  (if  the  monasteries  into  bodies  of  its  own,  — 
learned  men  of  all  professions  were  irresistibly  at- 
tracted  to  these   homes   where   thev  were   sure   to 


3-4  ON   THE   CAM. 

find  congenial  spirits  with  whom  to  converse,  mas- 
ters to  instruct  them,  pupils  to  consxilt  them,  and 
ahove  all,  books,  then  indeed  a  rarity.  The  high- 
est emoluments  and  honors  of  the  colleges  and 
Universities  were  not  then,  nor  are  they  now,  ac- 
corded equally  to  cleric  and  laymen.  Still  the 
great  principle  was  established,  which  gives  the 
first  character  to  an  English  University.  The 
home  of  students  in  all  stages  of  their  literary  pur- 
suits gathered  to  discuss  congenial  questions,  and 
consult  those  helps  and  authorities  that  only  such 
associations  can  bring-  tog-ether. 

The  objects  of  study  at  the  time  the  Universities 
were  established  were  few,  but  not  simple.  In 
Aristotle,  an  author  in  very  truth  of  most  tran- 
scendent eminence,  but  still  hardly  the  sum  and 
substance  of  knowledge,  is  summed  up  the  whole 
object  of  monastic  study.  lie  had  collected,  they 
thought,  all  the  facts  that  needed  collection.  He 
had  put  in  a  convenient  and  indeed  inevitable 
form  the  methods  of  reasoning,  and  all  they  had 
got  to  do  was  to  argue  ad  infinitum  on  his  facts 
and  about  his  principles.  They  very  soon  per- 
ceived that  the  natural  history  of  Aristotle  was  not 
a  subject  of  argument ;  he  had  classified  all  the 
beasts  and  birds  he  knew  ;  that  classification  could 
not  be  corrected  or  extended  ;  those  beasts  and 
birds,  or  others,  could  not  be  better  known,  with- 
out going  out  into  the  highways  and  fields,  and 
observing  facts ;  and  to  observe  facts  was  alike 


LECTURE   II.  35 

beneath  the  dignity  of  a  philosopher,  and  alien  to 
the  habits  of  an  ascetic.  Accordingly  they  seized 
at  once  upon  the  other  half  of  the  great  Grecian's 
wisdom,  —  the  ethical  and  metaphysical  questions. 
What  a  splendid  field  was  there  for  suppositions 
and  assertions,  for  enthymemes  and  predicables, 
for  undistributed  middles  and  illicit  processes  of  the 
minor.  Into  these  most  barren  investigations  they 
plunged,  shut  up  there  by  themselves,  knowing 
nobody,  seeing  nobody,  yet  discussing  with  the 
most  perfect  confidence  the  great  problems  of  hu- 
man nature ;  writing  large  volumes  full  of  the 
subtlest  wiredrawn  distinctions,  but  not  adding  an 
iota,  it  would  seem,  to  the  real  sum  of  human 
knowledge.  Nor  did  they  seek  to.  The  sum  of 
human  knowledge  for  all  they  cared,  might  perish 
forever.  Laymen  like  King  Alphonso,  infidels 
like  the  Arabs  might  collect  facts  in  astronomy 
and  natural  history,  —  vagabonds  like  Marco  Polo 
might  perform  marvellous  voyages,  —  heretics  like 
Dante  might  agitate  the  world  with  strains  of 
verse  ;  such  was  not  for  them.  For  the  pious 
ecclesiastic  merely  whetted  his  brains  over  Aris- 
totle, or  copied  the  ./Eneid  and  the  Agamemnon 
as  a  recreation  to  his  devotions.  He  could  not  see 
that  knowledge  and  intellectual  skill  were  God's 
good  gifts  to  the  world  ;  he  supposed  that  in  fast- 
ing and  almsgiving  and  telling  of  beads,  the  lull 
destiny  of  man  could  be  accomplished.  And  was 
it   for   the    other    class,    the   crafty  and   designing 


36  ON   THE   CAM. 

ecclesiastic,  to  make  science  a  progressive  business 
or  a  useful  art  ?  No  indeed,  —  he  felt  that  his  in- 
tellectual powers  were  not  misplaced  in  drawing 
subtle  distinctions  from  Aquinas,  in  classifying  the 
first  and  second  logical  figures,  in  converting  an 
argument  from  Celarent  into  Felapton.  The  sub- 
tlety so  acquired  he  would  use  on  a  wider  field, 
and  for  a  loftier  end ;  but  that  field  was  not 
science,  and  that  end  was  not  the  extension  of 
knowledge.  From  his  Aristotle  and  his  Boethius, 
from  his  second  intentions  and  his  quidditive  rela- 
tions, he  turned  to  the  court  and  the  camp,  the 
chancery  and  the  parliament.  Then  mail-clad 
nobles  and  bronzed  warriors  stood  abashed  and 
speechless  in  the  royal  councils  before  the  smooth 
churchman,  that  wheedled  the  king  out  of  his 
grants  by  logic,  and  sent  his  old  companions  in 
arms  dumbfoundered  from  the  room  by  monastic 
thunders.  Then  the  plain  common  lawyers  stood 
aghast  to  see  lands  and  tenements  carried  off  from 
the  very  teeth  of  acts  of  Parliament,  and  decisions 
of  the  King's  Bench  by  the  neat  tricks  of  some 
ecclesiastic,  whose  doctrine  of  uses  set  Glanvil  and 
the  Mirror  at  naught.  As  long  as  war  was  the 
trade  of  the  great,  and  tilling  the  soil  the  trade  of 
the  low,  the  churchmen  continued  first  in  their 
monasteries,  and  afterwards  in  their  Universities, 
to  reproduce  what  had  been  done  over  and  over 
again,  to  transcribe  and  criticise  a  few  ancient  au- 
thors, especially  Aristotle,  and  to  put  in  practice 


LECTURE   II.  37 

their  intellects,  sharpened  thus  to  the  last  degree 
of  subtlety,  in  the  most  important  relations  of  daily 
life  and  the  civil  government. 

And  barren  as  these  studies  may  appear  of  all 
true  knowledge,  —  mere  gymnastics  of  the  intel- 
lect, which  could  have  found  more  normal  and 
honorable  exercise  elsewhere  ;  —  yet  they  had  the 
softening  influence  that  all  study  will  have  in  all 
time ;  and  when  practised  in  a  loving  spirit  and 
a  real  faith,  though  they  failed  to  make  a  truly 
learned  character,  might  give  a  truly  lovely  one. 
The  great  observer  of  human  nature  in  the  four- 
teenth century  has  given  us  a  picture  of  the  Uni- 
versity man  of  his  time  so  captivating,  that  I  must 
relieve  my  halting  prose  with  Chaucer's  sweet 
verse  :  — 

"  A  clerk  ther  was  of  Oxenforde  also, 
That  unto  logike  hadde  long  ago ; 
As  lcne  was  his  hors  as  is  a  rake, 
And  lie  was  not  right  fat,  I  undertake ; 
But  looked  holwe,  and  thereto  sohcrly. 
Ful  thredbare  was  his  ovcrcst  courtepy, 
For  he  had  geten  him  yet  no  benefice, 
He  was  nought  worldly  to  have  an  office. 
For  him  was  lever  hau  at  his  heddes  lied 
A  twenty  bokes,  clothed  in  black  or  red 
Of  Aristote  and  his  philosophic, 
Than  robes  riche,  or  fidel,  or  sautrie. 
But  all  be  that  he  was  a  philosophre, 
Vet  hadde  he  but  litel  gold  in  uofre, 
But  all  that  he  might  of  his  frendes  hcnte, 
On  bokes  and  on  learning  he  it  spente, 


38  ON   THE   CAM. 

And  busily  gan  for  the  soules  praie 
Of  hem,  that  gave  him  wherwith  to  scolaie. 
Of  studie  toke  he  moste  care  and  hede, 
Not  a  word  spake  he  more  than  was  nede ; 
And  that  was  said  in  forme  and  reverence, 
And  short  and  quike,  and  ful  of  high  sentence ; 
Souning  in  moral  virtue  was  his  speche, 
And  gladly  wolde  he  lerne,  and  gladly  teche." 

Nor  were  their  studies  wholly  confined  to  these 
barren  disquisitions.  To  develop  the  theology  of 
the  Roman  Catholic  Church  against  doubters  and 
heretics  was  one  great  part  of  their  business,  and 
to  the  Universities  the  Church  always  looked  for 
her  polemical  defenders  as  well  as  her  temporal 
assistants.  The  proper  study  of  Latin  literature 
had  never  entirely  disappeared,  and  the  manu- 
scripts, which  were  copied  in  the  monasteries,  were 
studied  at  the  Universities;  and  not  only  studied 
but  imitated.  The  opinion  of  the  mediaeval  scholars 
was,  that  you  could  n't  have  too  much  of  a  good 
thing,  and  that  if  the  Latin  poets  and  prose  writers 
were  models  of  style  and  diction,  they  ought  to  be 
repeated  again  and  again.  True,  they  lost  the 
entire  spirit  of  the  ancient  writers.  Conceits  of 
letters  and  words,  torturing  Virgil  and  Homer  into 
anthems  to  the  Virgin  Mary,  and  biographies  of 
Constantine,  were  the  occupations  of  a  scholarship 
that  considered  anything  different  from  what  they 
had  already  as  impious,  and  with  all  their  logical 
subtlety,  could  not  see  the  really  true  part  of  the 
Caliph  Omar's  dilemma,  that  what  was  like  their 
previous  possessions  was  unnecessary. 


LECTURE   II.  89 

But  the  first  of  the  great  literary  movements  of 
Europe  arose,  just  as  the  Universities  of  England 
had  reached  the  last  stage  of  barren  repetitions,  to 
shake  them,  with  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  throw 
the  atoms  of  their  effete  scholarship  into  a  new  and 
vigorous  life.  The  same  Chaucer  who  gives  such 
a  description  of  the  Oxford  Aristotelian  takes  the 
theme  of  most  of  his  stories  from  Petrarch  and 
Boccaccio.  In  Italy  the  tine  study  of  Latin  litera- 
ture, not  merely  to  reproduce  the  words  of  Latin 
authors  ad  infinitum,  but  to  recast  in  new  moulds 
what  was  trulv  immortal  in  them,  —  the  burning 
rhetoric  of  Cicero,  the  playful  sai'casm  of  Horace, 
the  celestial  sweetness  and  grandeur  of  Virgil, — 
that  there  might  come  forth  from  the  crucible  the 
new  Tuscan  literature,  old  at  once  and  young, 
was  proceeding  with  giant  steps.  All  over  Eu- 
rope, the  great  Universities,  while  retaining  on 
their  formal  public  occasions  much  of  their  old 
schoolmen's  stiffness,  which  they  could  not  break 
up,  still  felt  the  new  blood  coursing  through  their 
veins,  and  accepted  the  new  era  of  Latin  literature 
so  magnificently  inaugurated  across  the  Alps.  The 
legitimate  study  of  the  Latin  classics,  not  as  un- 
changed and  unchangeable  wholes,  but  as  suscep- 
tible of  divers  interpretations,  and  liable  to  errors 
of  transcribing,  assisted  the  general  course  of  the 
human  mind  to  the  criticism  of  the  Scriptures. 
The  Latin  version  was  felt  to  be  inadequate  and 
incorrect ;    the    superstition    which    had    accepted 


40  ON   THE   CAM. 

the  Vulgate  as  inspired  fell  before  the  advancing 
scholarship  of  the  age.  The  thoughts  of  men  be- 
gan to  turn  eastward,  to  those  wonderful  countries 
where  Cicero  and  Virgil  had  studied,  and  where, 
in  other  days,  the  original  languages  of  the  Scrip- 
tures had  been  spoken.  And  just  as  the  flower 
was  ready  to  burst,  even  in  the  pent-up,  stifling 
air  of  the  mediaeval  schools,  the  fall  of  Constan- 
tinople and  the  invention  of  printing  broke  down 
the  last  barriers,  and  let  in  the  free  air  of  heaven 
to  play  around  the  wondrous  plant  that  had  been 
nursed  and  shut  up  so  long.  The  East  filled  the 
West  with  its  men  of  learning.  The  press  began 
to  circulate  their  works,  and  among  all  the  splendors 
of  that  wonderful  age  —  the  discovery  of  Amer- 
ica, the  voyages  to  India,  the  Reformation  of  the 
Church,  the  downfall  of  the  aristocracies  —  there 
burst  into  being  no  more  glorious  flower  than  the 
gorgeous  blossom  of  Greek  Literature. 

Yes,  my  friends,  it  may  be  that  I  am  misled  by 
the  passion  for  ancient  learning  which  literally 
from  my  very  earliest  youth  has  held  me  with  a 
chain  I  could  not  sever  if  I  would;  but  I  want 
words  to  picture  adequately  the  glory  of  that  new 
land  which  the  revival  of  Greek  literature  laid 
bare  to  the  eyes  of  the  fifteenth  century.  Vasco 
de  Gama  had  discovered  a  new  way  to  the  treas- 
ures of  the  East,  without  the  intervention  of  Per- 
sia and  Venice  ;  but  Erasmus  and  Reuchlin  showed 
the  way  to  a  more  mystical  Indus,  and  a  more  re- 


LECTURE   H.  41 

splendent  Ganges,  whose  treasures  men  had  been 
content  for  centuries  to  receive,  sifted  through 
meagre  epitomists  and  nerveless  commentators. 
Columbus  and  Cabot  had  raised  from  the  depths 
of  the  sea  the  sunken  Atalantis  of  Plato ;  but 
More  and  Politian  did  a  greater  work ;  for  they 
raised  Plato  himself,  with  all  his  glorious  breth- 
ren, from  out  the  ooze  of  superstition  and  bar- 
barism, to  inaugurate  a  new  era  of  human  intel- 
ligence, without  which  America  mi<rht  as  well 
have  remained  lost  forever.  To  me  the  revival 
of  Greek  literature,  after  the  dreary  subtleties  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  is  like  the  fate  of  a  traveller 
who  for  many  weary  hours  has  wandered  over 
I0112  wastes  of  barren  sand,  or  lost  his  track  among; 
tangled  thickets  and  miry  swamps,  or  hewn  out 
a  course  with  infinite  labor  athwart  the  matted 
branches  of  some  wood  of  ancient  error.  And,  as 
he  bursts  through  the  last  obstacle,  lo  a  new  para- 
dise opens  on  his  view  !  Stately  trunks  of  cedar 
and  palm  are  grouped  around  him  in  glades  and 
vistas,  —  they  are  the  masters  of  Attic  history  and 
science  ;  the  soil  beneath  him  is  gemmed  with  a 
thousand  tender  flowers  of  poetry ;  he  hears  the 
warblings  from  birds  of  celestial  plumage  that  dart 
to  and  fro  among  the  branches,  —  they  are  the 
notes  of  Hesiod  and  Sophocles,  of  Aristophanes 
and  Theocritus  ;  rills  of  sparkling  water  rush  by 
him  to  the  sea,  their  banks  gleaming  with  infinite 
blossoms  and  fragrant  with  countless  odors,  —  they 


42  ON   THE   CAM. 

are  the  limpid  floods  of  eloquence,  the  gushing  tor- 
rents of  philosophy  from  Demosthenes  and  Plato. 
As  he  stands  rapt  in  amazement,  new  sights  and 
new  sounds  arise  to  greet  him,  till,  dazzled  and 
giddy  with  excitement,  he  falls  powerless  on  the 
strand  to  which  his  steps  have  led  him,  as  he  hears 
rattling  from  the  heavens  the  resistless  thunders 
of  JEschylus  and  Pindar.  And  there,  tenderly, 
softly,  the  waters  rise  higher  and  higher,  gently 
embracing  and  toying  with  their  unresisting  prey, 
till  he  floats  far  off  to  sea,  lulled  to  dreams  of  ever- 
lasting glory  by  the  melodious  ripple  that  murmurs 
evermore  along;  the  Titanic  waves  of  Homer. 

From  the  moment  that  Greek  literature  arose 
in  England,  the  English  Universities  claimed  it  for 
their  own.  Erasmus,  the  greatest  scholar  north 
of  the  Alps,  passed  at  one  or  other  of  them  the 
greater  part  of  his  scholastic  life.  He  was  sur- 
rounded by  an  illustrious  body  of  coadjutors,  such 
as  Cheke,  Ascham,  and  Aylmer.  From  that  time 
forward,  Oxford,  his  early  residence,  and  Cam- 
bridge, the  choice  of  his  maturer  years,  have  never 
wanted  a  line  of  illustrious  scholars.  In  the  sev- 
enteenth century,  the  fame  of  all  Europe  was 
eclipsed  by  the  appearance  at  Cambridge  of  Rich- 
ard Bentley,  the  greatest  Greek  scholar  of  modern 
Europe.  A  hundred  years  later,  and  that  hun- 
dred years  full  of  brilliant  names,  Porson  —  Rich- 
ard II.  —  startled  the  whole  learned  world  by  his 
unexceptionable  taste,  his  profound  erudition,  and 


LECTURE   II.  43 

his  fearless  criticism.  The  lives  and  genius  of  such 
men,  if  they  come  only  once  a  century,  are  enough 
to  give  a  character  to  the  place  of  their  education 
and  residence.  Cambridge  is  proud  of  her  sons. 
She  is  proud  to  have  caught  so  soon  the  light  of 
Greek  literature,  as  it  threatened  to  be  extinguished 
in  the  fall  of  Constantinople,  or  languish  in  the 
midst  .of  the  dark  ages,  and  she  still  pursues  the 
study  of  the  classics  in  a  spirit  of  love,  of  philoso- 
phy, and  of  progress,  which  the  names  of  Erasmus, 
of  Bentley,  of  Porson,  of  Paley,  show  from  age  to 
ao;c  is  not  in  vain. 

But  the  learning  of  the  mediaeval  Universities, 
such  as  it  was,  was  not  only  literary  but  scientific. 
It  «as  impossible  that  the  general  enlightenment 
on  all  points  of  human  knowledge,  should  not  dis- 
close some  mysteries  of  science  also.  Trinity  Col- 
lege at  Cambridge  was  founded  just  three  years 
alter  Copernicus  demonstrated  the  true  solar  sys- 
tem. The  new  philosophy  of  the  heavens,  devel- 
oped by  the  great  minds  of  the  continent  in  the 
next  hundred  years,  and  accompanied  by  a  host 
of  discoveries  in  mathematical  science,  seized  upon 
England  early  in  the  seventeenth  century.  They 
found  there  a  set  of  men  fully  able  to  compare 
Eratosthenes  and  Archimedes  with  Kepler  and 
Galileo,  Euclid  and  Apollonius  with  Regiomon- 
tanus  and  Conunandine.  The  Cambridge  School 
of  Mathematics  and  Natural  Philosophy  soon  be- 
came even  more  renowned  than  its  School  of  ('las- 


44  ON  THE   CAM. 

sical  Literature,  the  more  so  as  Oxford  never  man- 
ifested an  equal  interest  in  scientific  branches. 
Wallis  and  Barrow  strained  the  old  geometry  to 
its  utmost  perfection ;  and  the  latter  did  more, 
for  to  his  fostering  care  does  Cambridge  owe  her 
greatest  son,  and  the  world  her  greatest  natural 
philosopher  ;  for  at  the  very  time  when  in  Bentley 
Cambridge  was  vindicating  her  claim  to  lead  the 
classical  studies  of  the  world,  she  asserted  in  trum- 
pet tones  her  supremacy  over  the  science  of  the 
universe,  in  the  person  of  Isaac  Newton. 

It  is  not  for  me  here  to  enlarge  upon  the  tran- 
scendent abilities  of  this  great  son  of  Cambridge. 
But  even  you,  who  hear  allusions  every  day  to 
the  magnitude  of  his  discoveries,  can  have  no  con- 
ception of  the  idolatry  with  which  his  name  is  re- 
vered at  the  University  which  trained  him.  From 
that  time  forward,  a  system  of  mathematics  and 
natural  philosophy  founded  upon  his  discoveries, 
has  been  the  basis  of  all  the  studies  pursued  at 
Cambridge.  She  has  been  hailed  for  a  hundred 
and  eighty  years  as  the  school  of  mathematics  for 
England,  the  great  headquarters  of  the  true  phi- 
losophy of  the  universe  ;  and  to  her  gather,  from 
her  proceed,  all  in  England  who  love  to  study 
those  mighty  rules  of  form  which  bind  together  the 
stars  and  the  earth  and  all  her  tribes  in  one  har- 
monious whole  of  perfect  proportion,  declaring 
forever  the  eternity  in  the  Creator's  mind  of  order 
and  beauty  and  law. 


LECTURE   II.  45 

In  these  two  great  channels,  —  the  mathemati- 
cal sciences  and  the  anci-ent  literature,  —  the  stud- 
ies of  Cambridge  University  have  run  ;  like  the 
course  of  the  river  Cam  itself,  numerous  mill 
streams  and  branches  diverge  from  them,  but  still 
the  main  force  of  the  fountain-head  is  bestowed  on 
them.  It  is  there  that  the  learned  men  of  Cam- 
bridge chiefly  embark  the  ventures  of  their  intel- 
lect, —  their  craft  sometimes  riding  smoothly  side 
by  side,  sometimes  jostling  in  eager  controversy, 
sometimes  stranded  on  a  barren  shallow  or  swamped 
in  a  treacherous  water-hole,  —  but  still,  let  us  be- 
lieve, aiming  at  the  same  great  ocean  of  truth  of 
which  their  mighty  admiral  Newton  loved  to  talk. 
And  they  are,  good  men,  somewhat  impatient  if 
it  is  hinted  that  there  are  other  streams  as  bright 
and  flowing,  leading  equally  to  the  same  sea,  ay, 
or  that  the  rivers  of  classics  or  mathematics  flow 
by  other  towers  than  these  of  King's  and  Trinity, 
or  that  barks  bearing  other  names  than  Ehnsley  or 
Barrow  can  navigate  their  water  safely.  They  are 
too  apt  to  brand  as  pirates  all  who  do  not  bear  the 
four  lions  surrounding  the  volume  at  their  mast- 
head. But  bear  with  them,  my  friends;  they 
have  achieved,  in  the  interpretation  of  the  ancient 
writers,  and  the  tracing  of  the  world's  harmonies, 
results  of  which  any  body  of  men  might  be  proud, 
—  they  have  soothed  an  hundred  aching  brows, 
and  poured  light  on  a  thousand  dim  eyes,  and 
while  the  world  .shall   stand,  the  reverent  students 


46  ON   THE   CAM. 

of  ancient  wisdom  and  of  modern  science  shall  de- 
light to  turn  their  pious  steps  to  the  ancient  halls 
where  so  many  great  and  good  have  labored  so 
faithfully,  and  drink  from  the  fountain  of  the 
kind  mother,  who  bears  for  her  motto  the  unfail- 
ing promise,  "  Hence  cometh  light  and  the  holy 
draughts."  * 

I  have  said  that  classical  studies  and  mathe- 
matics are  not  exclusively  the  pursuits  which 
attract  the  learned  to  Cambridge.  The  various 
branches  of  natural  science,  whether  organic  or 
inorganic,  are  pursued  with  some  vigor ;  there 
are  always  some  votaries  of  them,  scattered  among 
the  scholars  and  geometers,  of  great  proficiency. 
The  study  of  medicine  has  numerous  professors, 
and  liberal  foundations  for  its  pursuit,  although  the 
great  metropolis,  with  its  world-renowned  practi- 
tioners and  crowded  hospitals,  must  always  pre- 
sent a  more  favorable  field  for  acquiring  the  heal- 
ing art.  A  much  more  important  branch  of  study 
at  Cambridge  is  metaphysical  and  ethical  science, 
pursued  chiefly  on  the  basis  of  Greek  philosophy, 
but  still  in  the  light  of  some  of  the  best  thinkers 
of  modern  times,  of  whom  no  small  share  have 
come  from  Cambridge.  In  connection  with  this, 
the  study  of  ancient  and  modern  history,  and  of 
constitutional  law,  has  never  wholly  languished, 
and  of  late  has  received  much  greater  attention. 
All  those  branches  naturally  derive  great  help 
*  "  Iliac  luccm  ct  pocula  sacra." 


LECTUEE   II.  47 

from  the  magnificent  library  of  the  University,  one 
of  the  finest  in  the  world,  and  entitled,  in  com- 
mon with  two  or  three  others  in  Great  Britain,  to 
a  copy  of  every  printed  book  published  in  Her 
Majesty's  dominions.  This  privilege,  which,  if 
the  library  strictly  availed  itself  of  it,  would  soon 
become  like  the  gift  of  an  elephant,  is  chiefly  ex- 
ercised in  procuring  all  the  new  novels,  at  the  in- 
stance of  the  professors'  wives  and  other  ladies 
connected  with  the  University. 

All  these  miscellaneous  branches  have  received 
much  stimulus  in  the  last  few  years.  They  are, 
however,  still  very  subordinate  to  the  old  favorites. 
But  there  are  two  courses  of  study  pursued  at 
Cambridge,  one  entirely  extraneous  to  the  gen- 
eral course,  the  other  knit  in  with  it,  which  de- 
serve a  peculiar  and  separate  mention.  The  first 
is  the  study  of  the  civil  law,  the  second  of  theology. 
I  propose  to  take  up  a  separate  lecture  with  the 
whole  subject  of  theological  studies  at  Cambridge, 
and  the  connection  of  the  University  with  the 
Church  of  England.  Suffice  it  now  to  say,  that 
such  was  the  hold  which  the  ecclesiastics  obtained 
over  learning  in  the  Middle  Ages,  that  the  study 
of  divinitv  in  all  its  branches  was  inwrought  into 
the  very  marrow  and  life  of  the  English  Universi- 
ties. Perhaps  it  has  clung  more  tenaciously  to 
Oxford  than  to  Cambridge;  but  of  this  I  am  by 
no  means  certain.  At  all  events,  if  Cambridge 
were  to  adopt  a  motto  from  Harvard,  she  would  at 


48  ON   THE   CAM. 

once  cast  aside  the  fictitious  one,  "  Veritas"  for 
the  actual  one,  "Christo  et  Ecclesice"  with  a  spe- 
cial preference  for  the  "Ecelesice.v 

The  study  of  the  civil  law  was  for  a  long  time 
a  favorite  one  among  the  ecclesiastics  of  England. 
I  need  not  enter  into  the  causes  of  this,  —  well 
known  to  all  those  who  are  interested  in  the  his- 
tory either  of  the  mediaeval  Church  or  the  laws 
of  England.  The  ecclesiastical  courts  in  London 
adopted  its  rules  in  their  decisions  almost  univer- 
sally ;  and,  in  order  that  there  might  be  a  constant 
supply  of  its  professors,  the  study  of  it  was  greatly 
encouraged  at  the  Universities,  where,  indeed,  the 
Doctorate  of  the  Civil  and  Canon  Laws  was  to  a 
layman  the  most  honorable  title  he  could  obtain. 
All  parts  of  both  Universities  encouraged  this 
study.  But  at  Cambridge,  Bishop  Bateman's  col- 
lege, bearing  the  name  of  Trinity  Hall,  and  inter- 
esting; to  all  American  readers  of  English  books 
as  the  Academic  home  of  Sir  E.  L.  Bulwer,  was 
wholly  devoted  to  the  study  of  civil  law,  —  pursued 
entirely  apart  from  all  other  University  studies, 
and  considerably  despised  by  the  proficients  in 
them.  As,  however,  the  career  of  an  advocate 
at  Doctors'  Commons,  the  abode  of  civil  law  in 
London,  is  very  profitable,  the  students  of  Trinity 
Hall  pursued  their  way,  entirely  incurious  of  the 
small  gains  and  still  smaller  honors  attached  to 
residence  in  Bishop  Bateman's  halls  and  the  pur- 
suit of  civil  law. 


lecture  n.  49 

I  have  thus  gone  through  the  catalogue  of  ex- 
ceptional studies,  apart  from  the  ancient  languages 
and  mathematics,  whose  votaries  gather,  to  some 
degree,  in  the  ancient  halls  by  the  no-means  pel- 
lucid Cam.  They  make  a  formidable  list ;  but 
they  are  exceptions  for  all  that.  Apart  from  that 
I  last  named  of  civil  law,  —  and  that  has  been 
of  late  altered,  —  very  few  avail  themselves  of 
the  opportunity  to  study  even  these  exceptional 
branches  without  distinction  previously  obtained 
in  classics  or  mathematics.  And  thus  I  am 
brought  to  the  second  great  object  with  which 
all  the  wealth  and  learning  and  energy  of  six 
hundred  years  has  been  gathered  at  Cambridge, 
—  the  training  of  young  men  in  the  liberal  arts. 
The  English  Universities,  as  the  name  imports 
to  an  American  ear,  are  not  alone  the  home  of 
learned  men,  who,  as  it  were,  have  already  at- 
tained, —  they  are  the  training-schools  for  life  : 
first,  of  those  who  would  be  learned,  and,  second, 
nor  this  unimportant,  of  those  who  have  not  the 
remotest  intention  of  being  learned  in  anything 
but  the  world's  ways. 

In  England,  ever  since  the  young  were  trained 
at  all  in  the  liberal  arts,  they  have  been  trained  by 
ecclesiastics.  From  the  days  when  the  old  feudal 
baron  kept  a  priest  at  the  castle  to  teach  their 
letters  to  his  feebler  sons  who  were  unable  to  bear 
the  weight  of  arms,  to  these  modern  times,  when 
a  noble  lady,  to  mv  certain   knowledge,  refused  to 


50  ON  THE   CAM. 

send  her  son  to  Rugby  because  Dr  Temple,  the 
head-master,  had  written  one  of  the  Essays  and 
Reviews,  —  which  she  had  not  read,  —  the  edu- 
cation of  the  youth  of  England  has  been,  is,  and, 
according  to  present  indications,  will  continue  to 
be,  in  the  vast  majority  of  cases,  intrusted  to  the 
divines  of  the  dominant  religion.  The  great  lord, 
indeed,  took  his  son  to  Cressy  and  Poitiers,  to  win 
his  spurs  under  Edward  the  Black  Prince ;  and  in 
the  same  age,  the  son  of  the  Cheapside  bowyer, 
who  had  equipped  that  gallant  army,  slept  beneath 
his  father's  counter  to  learn  the  art  of  manufacture 
and  traffic.  And  these  two  pursuits,  war  for  the 
son  of  the  mighty,  trade  and  handiwork  for  the  son 
of  the  lowly,  divided  England  for  many  centuries. 
But  the  passion  for  learning,  that  had  burned  in 
King  Alfred's  breast,  burned  also  in  those  of  his 
people.  The  first  impulse  for  learning  was  to  the 
Church,  —  that  haven  of  dignity  and  honor,  which, 
in  spite  of  Mr.  Wopsle's  lamentations,  is  thrown 
open,  ay,  and  with  no  narrow  portal,  to  every  man 
in  England.  The  baron's  hall,  and  the  merchant's 
board,  in  many  cases  the  mechanic's  forge  or  the 
peasant's  hut,  sent  their  quota,  year  after  year,  to 
the  two  great  seats  of  learning,  where  learned 
men,  those  who  knew  themselves,  were  ever  ready 
to  impart  their  knowledge,  in  order  to  enter  that 
profession,  which  might,  as  in  the  case  of  Wolsey, 
rank  the  butcher's  son  above  the  proudest  peers 
in  the  land,  without  drawing  steel  from  the  sheath 
or  gold  from  the  purse. 


LECTURE   II.  51 

The  experience  of  this  remarkable  man  shows 
what  the  English  Universities  were  in  his  time. 
The  son  of  an  Ipswich  butcher,  he  made  his  way  to 
Magdalen  College,  Oxford,  at  the  age  of  twelve, 
and  took  his  bachelor's  degree  in  due  course, 
though  in  that  extreme  youth.  Such  eai'ly  pro- 
ficiency has  been  seen  in  other  countries  and  in 
later  years  ;  but  it  cannot  have  been  the  ordi- 
nary age  of  academic  training  at  that  time,  for 
the  English  Universities  were  then  all  that  public 
school  and  University  together  are  now.  It  is 
stated  that  in  the  Middle  Ages  fifty  thousand 
persons  at  once  were  carrying  on  their  studies  at 
Oxford.  This  is  inexplicable,  unless  the  University 
was  frequented  by  much  younger  persons  than 
now,  and  the  ancient  enactments  prove  the  same. 
No  undergraduate  was  then  allowed  to  wander  in 
the  streets  of  Cambridge  without  the  companion- 
ship of  a  Master  of  Arts,  a  rule  which  Freshmen 
at  Harvard  are  taught  still  applies  to  the  last 
horse-car  from  Boston  at  night ;  and  the  highest 
penalties  were  fulmined  against  any  pupil  who 
should  presume  to  play  marbles  on  the  steps  of 
the  University  buildings.  Down  to  a  still  later 
period,  a  yet  darker  tradition  preserves:  that  cor- 
poral punishment  was  inflicted  at  Cambridge  by 
the  hands  of  the  authorities,  and  on  no  less  a  per- 
son than  the  poet  Milton.  Certainly,  the  laws  of 
Harvard,  modelled  by  the  Puritans  on  the  existing 
English  Colleges,  contained  directions  for  its  exer- 


52  ON   THE  CAM. 

cise  by  the  President.  The  foundation  of  many 
large  public  schools  in  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth 
century  raised  the  Universities,  as  far  as  their 
younger  members  went,  to  a  character  something 
above  mere  academies.  At  the  same  time  other 
professions  besides  those  of  arms  and  the  church 
began  to  assert  themselves  as  liberal.  The 
Inns  of  Court  awarded  special  privileges  for  the 
study  of  the  law  to  those  who  had  been  appren- 
tices in  the  two  great  guilds  of  learning.  The 
great  revival  of  letters,  which  I  attempted  to  de- 
scribe, created  in  the  minds  of  all  people  a  desire 
for  some  cultivation  above  and  beyond  the  mere 
study  of  the  particular  calling  which  was  to  oc- 
cupy a  man's  life.  The  new  philosophy,  intro- 
duced by  Bacon,  himself  a  Cambridge  man,  was 
every  day  adding  to  the  brilliancy  of  its  discover- 
ies, and  felt  to  be  a  mighty  engine  for  training  the 
mind  ;  —  and  all  these  causes  attracted  to  the  Uni- 
versity, every  year,  greater  and  greater  crowds  of 
young  men,  past  the  age  of  boyhood,  to  pursue  the 
studies  which  the  reverend  priests  there  gathered 
offered  to  them.  For  gradually,  as  years  went  on, 
there  was  shaping  itself  a  great  system  of  instruc- 
tion, partly  founded  on  monastic  or  even  heathen 
traditions,  partly  on  recent  discoveries,  which  by 
the  time  of  Newton  and  Bentley,  if  not  a  hundred 
vears  earlier,  commanded  the  universal  respect  of 
the  people  of  England  as  the  selection,  out  of  all 
the  world  knew  of  what  was  best  fitted  to  render 


LECTURE  II.  53 

the  mind  of  the  young  broad  enough  and  yet  hard 
enough  to  grapple,  to  the  best  possible  advantage, 
with  the  great  problem  of  life  and  their  own  spe- 
cial destinies.  This  system  of  English  University 
education,  intended  for  those  who  wish  to  learn, 
and  surrounded  by  a  hundred  glittering  prizes  to 
stimulate  such  a  wish,  has  in  its  general  fundamen- 
tal character,  remained  unchanged  for  at  least  two 
hundred  and  fifty  years.  I  must  endeavor  to  give 
you  an  idea  of  it,  in  its  full  bearing  on  the  young 
men  with  whom  for  three  years  and  a  half  I  have 
been  intimately  associated,  —  and  yet  I  almost  de- 
spair of  doing  so  to  our  mutual  satisfaction. 

And,  first,  of  the  branches  of  learning  studied 
by  the  young  men  at  Cambridge.  Plato  placed 
over  the  door  of  his  school,  "  No  one  untauo-ht  in 
geometry  can  enter."  Cambridge  might  put  over 
hers,  "  No  one  untaught  in  geometry  can  go 
through."'  For  the  best  part  of  two  hundred 
years,  the  basis  of  all  the  Cambridge  education, 
the  curriculum  whereby  the  aspirants  for  Univer- 
sity honors  kicked  up  Olympic  dust,  was  Euclid's 
Elements  of  Geometry;  whereon  was  raised  the 
superstructure  of  the  Newtonian  mathematics. 
Dear,  indeed,  to  a  Cambridge  man  is  Euclid.  His 
faith  in  it  is  truly  sublime.  It  is  to  him  not  an 
author  but  a  system  of  demonstration,  a  science, 
a  philosophy.  There  may  have  been  an  old  Greek 
EvKXetST}*;,  —  what  of  him?  lie  is  a  Greek,  like 
the  rest  ;  and,  as  ho  did  n't  write  first-rate  Greek, 


54  ON  THE   CAM. 

why,  "  Nan  ragioniam  di  lui,  ma  guarda  e  passa." 
But  Euclid,  —  Nature's  laws  are  built  on  it.  The 
fundamental  propositions  of  geometry  never  have 
been,  never  could  be,  better  put  than  by  the  old 
sage  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  before  Christ, 
of  whom  so  many  editors  make  such  a  controver- 
sial medley.  A  Cambridge  man  does  n't  know 
why  a  certain  science  is  called  Euclid,  any  more 
than  why  another  is  called  Algebra  ;  one  name 
may  be  Greek,  another  Arabic,  and  both  may  be 
the  same  word  as  Gibberish.  It  is  not  his  concern. 
When  I  entered  Cambridge,  I  was  given,  in  a  for- 
mal preliminary  examination,  a  proposition  of  ge- 
ometry, which  can  be  demonstrated  in  three  or 
four  ways,  all  coming  to  the  same  point.  I  hap- 
pened to  select  a  way  not  given  in  Euclid.  My 
examiner  —  not  a  great  light  in  mathematics, 
though  a  fine  scholar  and  an  admirable  man  — 
looked  at  my  work  for  some  time.  "  Well,"  said 
he  at  length,  "  I'm  satisfied  with  your  demonstra- 
tion. But  you  must  get  up  Euclid,  —  you  must 
get  up  Euclid."  When  Dr  Whewell,  who  under- 
stands the  whole  history  of  mathematics  perfectly, 
brought  out  a  new  work  on  Mechanics,  he  called 
it  the  Mechanical  Euclid,  because  the  propositions 
were  discussed  by  geometry  ;  thus  showing  plainly 
that  he  regarded  Euclid  as  the  name,  not  of  a 
man,  but  a  science.  From  the  dark  realm  of  this 
mystic  enchanter,  which  all  must  enter,  at  Cam- 
bridge, sooner  or  later,  there  was,  till  forty  years 


LECTURE   II.  55 

ago,  but  one  steep  and  rugged  pathway  hewn  out 
for  obtaining   an    honorable    exit,  —  namely,  the 
Newtonian    system   of  mathematics.      It  was  re- 
lieved by  no  physical  studies,  except  astronomy, 
through  the  medium  of  very  superior  instruments ; 
and  by  no  linguistic  studies,  except  that  all  public 
examinations,  essays,  theses,  etc.,  were  conducted 
in  villanous  Latin.     For  by  a  strange  relic  of  the 
logical  and  disputatory  studies  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
the  candidates  for  University  honors  maintained  in 
public  some  mathematical  thesis,  about  which  they 
disputed  in  Latin,  never,  as  it  may  be  supposed, 
of  the  best.     To  keep  up  the  illusion  of  the  monk- 
ish time,  and  the  seven  liberal  arts,  a  little  meta- 
physics and  a  good  deal  of  theology  were  thrown 
in  at  the  time  of  the  examinations ;  but  the  real 
business  of  the  "schools"  at  Cambridge  was  mathe- 
matics.    The  disputing,  however,  was  so  important 
a  part  of  the  performances  that  the  first  division  of 
those  to  whom  were  awarded  honors  were  called 
by  distinction,  the  wranglers  ;  and  the  head  man  — 
the  proud  recipient  of  all  the  glory  which  at  the 
end  of  a  four  years'  course  the  ancient  University 
showered   on   the  son  she   possessed   most   distin- 
guished in  her  favorite  studies  —  was  called   the 
senior  wrangler.     In  process  of  time,  the  disputa- 
tions and   Latin  were  all   done  away  with.      An 
examination  from  printed  papers  was  made  the  test. 
Yet,  still,  every  year,  at  the  end  of  the  arduous 
eight  days'  trial,  the  undergraduate  who  takes  his 


56  ON  THE  CAM. 

bachelor's  degree  in  virtue  of  passing  the  best 
examination  in  mathematics,  is  called  the  senior 
wrangler;  and  attains  the  proudest  position  that 
Cambridge  has  to  bestow. 

And,  certainly,  though  unattractive  to  many, 
there  might  be  devised  many  a  worse  training  for 
a  young  man  than  a  thorough  course  of  mathe- 
matical study.  There  is  a  common  belief  that 
Cambridge  scholarship  owes  much  of  its  accu- 
racy to  its  mathematics.  This  I  do  not  believe. 
Doubtless  the  error  has  sprung  from  the  fact  that 
arithmetic  —  the  form  in  which  mathematics  gen- 
erally presents  itself  to  the  public  —  is  all  accu- 
racy, and  nothing  else.  But  the  study  of  the  great 
relations  of  form  as  developed  by  Euclid  and  New- 
ton calls  for  very  different  mental  powers.  Breadth 
of  reasoning,  readiness  to  generalize,  great  percep- 
tion of  analogy  in  forms  and  formulas  apparently  the 
most  dissimilar,  quickness  in  transforming  one  set 
of  ideas  to  another,  a  keen  perception  of  order 
and  beauty,  and,  above  all,  inventive  power  of  the 
highest  kind,  —  these  are  the  qualities  required 
and  developed  by  the  Cambridge  mathematics. 
Accuracy  is  required,  but  it  is  accuracy  to  estab- 
lish confidence  in  past  work,  that  the  next  step 
may  be  taken  in  perfect  faith,  —  for  more  than 
any  other  pursuit  does  mathematics  require  faith, 
implicit  faith,  and  English  mathematics  most  of 
all.  Englishmen  hate  going  back  to  first  prin- 
ciples, and  mathematics  allows  them  to  accept  a 


LECTURE  II.  57 

few  axiomatic  statements  laid  down  by  their  two 
gods,  Euclid  and  Newton,  and  then  go  on  and 
on,  very  seldom  reverting  to  them.  This  system 
of  mathematics  developed  in  England,  is  exceed- 
ingly different  from  that  either  of  the  Germans  or 
the  French,  and  though  at  different  times  it  has 
borrowed  much  from  both  these  countries,  it  has 
redistilled  it  through  its  own  alembic,  till  it  is  all 
English  of  the  English.  This  was  the  study  in 
which,  for  two  hundred  years,  all,  and  now  more 
than  half,  of  the  Cambridge  candidates  for  honors 
exercise  themselves. 

But  here  comes  in  the  distinction  of  University 
and  College  to  which  I  have  already  called  your 
attention.  While  for  two  hundred  years  the  Uni- 
versity of  Cambridge  awarded  its  honors  wholly 
for  mathematical  proficiency,  the  separate  colleges, 
in  many  cases,  gave  theirs  for  other  studies.  Trin- 
ity College,  in  particular,  albeit  the  college  of 
Newton  and  Barrow,  was  early  distinguished  for 
its  study  of  classical,  especially  Greek,  literature. 
The  great  classical  scholar,  Bentley,  to  whom  allu- 
sion has  been  made,  was  a  member  of  St.  John's 
College,  famous  for  its  devotion  to  mathematics. 
lie  was  appointed  by  the  Crown  to  be  master  of 
Trinity  College  ;  and  it  is,  perhaps,  to  his  headship 
that  we  are  to  refer  the  great  estimation  in  which 
classical  studies  have  always  been  held  in  the  col- 
lege of  his  adoption.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  taste 
for   classical    studies    kept   such    firm    hold  on   the 


58  ON   THE   CAM. 

Cambridge  mind,  and  produced  such  splendid 
scholars,  that  in  the  year  1824,  a  new  final  Uni- 
versity examination  for  honors  was  established,  for 
proficiency  in  the  ancient  languages.  Originally, 
and  for  nearly  thirty  years,  competitors  for  these 
classical  honors  were  obliged  to  take  a  certain 
stand  in  the  mathematical  department,  before  they 
could  even  present  themselves  in  classics,  but  that 
restriction  is  entirely  removed,  and  proficiency  in 
the  Latin  and  Greek  languages  is  now  tested  by 
as  searching  an  examination,  and  rewarded  by 
similar  honors  to  the  Mathematics.  The  highest 
on  the  list  is  called  the  Senior  Classic. 

Here,  then,  is  the  second  great  branch  of  study 
to  which  the  attention  of  young  men  is  called  at 
Cambridge.  Originally  ignored  by  the  Univer- 
sity, subsequently  rewarded  by  a  few  prizes,  then 
raised  to  an  equality  in  the  examinations,  there 
has  always  flourished  in  the  colleges  at  Cambridge, 
from  the  time  of  Erasmus  and  Cheke,  the  study  of 
the  languages  of  Greece  and  Rome  as  an  appro- 
priate training  for  young  men. 

I  need  not,  my  friends,  enter  into  an  apology 
here  for  these  chosen  studies  of  my  University.  I 
know  very  well  that  there  are  those  at  this  day, 
and  particularly  in  this  country,  who  despise,  or 
affect  to  despise,  the  study  of  Latin  and  Greek  as 
antediluvian,  unpractical,  useless.  How  sincere 
their  objections  are  may  be  shown  from  their  read- 
iness to  interlard  their  so-called  essays  and  reviews 


LECTURE   IL  59 

with  a  flood  of  badly-quoted  and  inappropriate  Latin 
and  Greek.  But  I  challenge  all  such,  —  when 
they  have  exhausted  the  last  insult  on  languages 
they  cannot  read,  and  studies  they  never  pursued, 
—  when  they  have  made  the  last  misrepresenta- 
tion, ignored  the  last  issue,  begged  the  last  ques- 
tion, —  when  the  last  bull  has  fulmined  from  the 
Vatican  of  Progress  and  Utilitarianism,  to  the  full 
as  bat-eyed  and  bigoted  as  the  Vatican  of  Con- 
servatism, — 

"  When  the  satirist  has  at  last, 
Strutting  and  vaporing  in  an  empty  school, 
Spent  all  his  force,  and  made  no  proselyte,"  — 

I  challenge  them  to  find  any  effective  substitute, 
in  a  system  of  education,  out  of  all  their  vaunted 
practical  pursuits,  for  the  poor,  threadbare,  Old 
World  Latin  and  Greek.  I  know  time  may  be 
wasted  on  them, — and  I  know  very  few  things 
on  which  it  may  not  be  wasted  ;  I  know  their 
professors  become  sometimes  insensible  to  all 
other  pursuits,  —  and  I  have  yet  to  learn  that  men 
of  one  idea  are  found  only  among  classical  schol- 
ars. But  I  believe  that  classical  studies  are  still 
the  best  mental  training  for  the  young  in  spite 
of  the  errors  of  which  their  professors  may  have 
been  guilty.  And  first,  I  believe  them  to  be  so, 
because  they  teach  us  the  actual  life  of  two  great 
peoples,  the  most  brilliant,  the  most  powerful,  the 
most  famous  that  the  world  has  yet  seen.      They 


60  ON  THE  CAM. 

teach  us,  from  the  lips  of  the  actors  and  eyewit- 
nesses themselves,  the  early  history  of  liberty,  the 
establishment  of  free  governments,  their  struggle 
with  despotisms  and  aristocracies,  their  downfall, 
—  and  if  Grecian  literature  taught  nothing  else, 
Americans  and  Englishmen  might  study  it  all 
their  lives  to  good  purpose,  —  the  downfall  of  the 
free  republics  of  Greece  for  want  of  a  federative 
union,  —  the  mysteries  of  early  natural  philoso- 
phers, —  the  rise  of  early  moral  philosophy,  —  the 
gradual  development  of  the  fine  arts,  painting, 
architecture,  oratory,  poetry,  —  the  transactions 
of  the  most  quick-witted  and  acute  merchants, 
lawyers,  and  politicians  the  world  has  ever  seen, — 
the  successive  expansion  of  the  art  of  war,  —  the 
conquests  of  the  barbarians,  —  the  westward  trans- 
fer of  civilization,  —  the  magnificent,  the  porten- 
tous growth  of  Rome,  —  the  contest  of  military 
and  commercial  states,  —  the  establishment  of  a 
system  of  jurisprudence  and  provincial  rule,  whose 
hold  on  the  world  is  far  from  extinct  at  the  pres- 
ent day,  —  the  vicissitudes  of  democracy,  oligarchy, 
and  despotism,  —  the  substitution  of  external  for 
moral  graces  in  a  great  people, —  the  gradual  de- 
cline of  the  Old  World  before  the  new  nationali- 
ties, —  the  gradual  paling  of  ancient  splendors  in 
the  glory  of  the  new  dispensation.  And  all  these 
inestimable  lessons,  that  must  be  learnt,-  sooner  or 
later,  by  nations  as  well  as  men,  —  all  these  are 
taught,  not  merely  in  dry  catalogues  of  chronicles, 


LECTURE   II.  61 

but  in  ten  thousand  ways,  —  by  historians,  by  gen- 
erals, by  statesmen,  by  orators,  by  savans,  by  art- 
ists, by  letter-writers,  by  bards,  clothed  in  a  hun- 
dred mantles  of  rhetoric,  crowned  with  a  thousand 
flowers  of  poetry,  and  all  made  living,  burning 
truth  to  us  by  the  story  of  the  lives  and  deaths  of 
countless  brave  men  and  noble  women  who  toiled 
and  suffered  and  prevailed  through  it  all.  And 
then,  as  if  all  these  treasures  of  learning  and  beau- 
ty were  not  an  inestimable  fund  for  research,  the 
casket  in  which  they  are  enshrined  is,  I  believe, 
indeed  worthy  to  be  a  primary  object  of  study. 
Do  we,  year  after  year,  strain  our  Yankee  throats 
to  catch  from  some  ex-barber  or  sausage-maker 
the  exact  twist  of  the  French  or  German  w,  and 
shall  we  neglect  the  two  finest  languages  the  world 
ever  spoke,  —  nervous,  flexible,  melodious,  admit- 
ting of  every  expression  of  humor  or  passion  be- 
yond any  tongue  now  spoken  on  earth,  —  the  root, 
too,  of  half  the  languages  of  modern  Europe,  the 
key  whereby  the  mysteries  of  modern  tongues  are 
unlocked  as  by  "  Open  Sesame  "  ?  Can  the  world 
present  a  study  better  calculated  to  strengthen  the 
memory,  the  accuracy,  the  taste,  the  observation, 
the  forethought,  the  comparison  of  the  human  mind 
than  in  tracing  out  the  intricacies  of  language, 
in  comparing  the  idioms  of  ancient  and  modern 
tongues,  in  transferring  the  masterpieces  of  one 
language  into  the  expressions  of  the  other?  Can 
the  wit  of  the  young  find  a  nobler  scope  than  tho 


62  ON   THE   CAM. 

field  of  two  great  literatures,  confessedly  the  most 
complete,  the  most  varied,  the  most  suggestive, 
the  most  comprehensive  the  world  has  seen  ?  Can 
there  be  a  better  practice  for  the  lawyer,  the  states- 
man, the  divine,  the  historian,  the  poet,  than  ana- 
lyzing the  most  unexceptionable  models  of  style 
ever  written  ?  Where  should  the  embryo  general 
turn  but  to  Caesar  and  Xenophon,  the  lawyer  and 
orator  but  to  .ZEschines  and  Demosthenes,  the 
satirist  but  to  Juvenal  and  Aristophanes  ?  Where 
can  the  divine  find,  apart  from  the  Scriptures,  ho- 
lier lessons  of  truth  and  goodness  than  in  Plato? 
Where  can  the  warm-hearted  friend,  the  keen  ob- 
server of  human  nature,  revel  with  greater  luxury 
than  in  Cicero  and  Pliny  ?  Where  can  the  lover 
of  nature  find  sweeter  pictures,  the  patriot  warm 
to  nobler  aspirations,  the  moralist  gaze  on  sub- 
limer  characters  than  in  the  matchless  strains  of 
Homer  and  Virgil  ? 

Yes,  my  friends,  I  am  not  afraid  before  you  to 
vindicate  my  favorite  pursuits,  —  I  am  not  afraid 
to  extol  the  value  of  classical  studies  as  the  train- 
ing of  the  young.  We  need  not  apologize  for 
their  pursuit  at  Cambridge.  We  defend,  we  ap- 
prove, we  applaud  her  faithful  and  successful  exer- 
tions to  keep  alive  the  lamp  of  classic  fire.  I  shall 
have  occasion  to  show  you  that  her  devotion  to 
them  is  not  bigoted,  exclusive,  or  undiscerning ; 
I  will  close  to-night  by  recalling  to  you  the  pane- 
gyric which  the  great  son  of  Cambridge  has  be- 


LECTURE   II.  63 

stowed  on  the  home  of  Greek  literature,  and 
which  by  a  thousand  services  Cambridge  merits  to 
have  transferred  to  her,  with  almost  equal  honor. 

"  All  the  triumphs  of  truth  and  genius  over 
prejudice  and  power,  in  every  country,  and  in 
every  age,  have  been  the  triumphs  of  Athens. 
Wherever  a  few  great  minds  have  made  a  stand 
against  violence  and  fraud  in  the  cause  of  liberty 
and  reason,  there  has  been  her  spirit  in  the  midst 
of  them;  inspiring,  encouraging,  consoling:  by 
the  lonely  lamp  of  Erasmus ;  on  the  restless  bed 
of  Pascal ;  on  the  tribune  of  Mirabeau ;  in  the 
cell  of  Galileo  ;  on  the  scaffold  of  Sidney.  But 
who  shall  estimate  her  influence  upon  private  hap- 
piness ?  who  shall  say  how  many  thousands  have 
been  made  wiser,  happier,  better,  by  those  pur- 
suits in  which  she  taught  mankind  to  engage  ?  to 
how  many  the  studies  which  took  their  rise  from 
her  have  been  wealth  in  poverty,  liberty  in  bond- 
age, health  in  sickness,  society  in  solitude  ?  Her 
power  is  indeed  manifested  at  the  bar,  in  the 
senate,  on  the  field  of  battle,  in  the  schools  of 
philosophy,  but  these  are  not  her  glory.  Wher- 
ever literature  consoles  sorrow  or  assuages  pain  ; 
wherever  it  brings  gladness  to  eyes  which  fail  with 
wakefulness  and  tears,  and  ache  for  the  dark 
house  and  the  long  sleep,  there  is  exhibited,  in  its 
noblest  form,  the  immortal  influence  of  Athens.'** 

*  Macaulay,  Essay  on  Mitford's  Greece. 


III. 

METHODS  OF  INSTRUCTION  AND  STUDY. 

Competitive  Examinations.  —  The  final  one  Described.  — 
University  and  College  Lectures.  —  College  and  Pri- 
vate Tutors.  —  Vindication  of  the  Competitive  System, 
and  of  the  Pursuit  of  College  Studies  Generally. — 
"  The  Wanderers." 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen  :  — 

In  my  last  lecture  I  brought  to  your  notice  the 
two  great  objects  which  have  for  six  hundred 
years  been  pursued  at  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge. First,  to  furnish  a  home  where  learned 
men  might  congregate  to  pursue  their  studies, 
especially  those  which  have  for  a  long  time  been 
peculiarly  honored  in  England,  —  mathematical 
science  and  classical  literature.  Secondly,  I  called 
your  attention  to  the  fact  that  this  great  guild  of 
scholars  had  stood  forth  as  a  training  school  for 
young  men,  that  the  people  of  England  had  found 
the  studies  pursued  there  a  useful  and  elegant  field 
wherein  young  men  might  extend  and  sharpen 
their  mental  powers  and  fit  themselves  for  their 
special  professions,  and  for  the  general  calls  of 
life.  Unquestionably  the  original  attraction  of 
University  studies  to  youthful  students  was  that 
they  were  what  they  set  up  to  be,  the  whole  range 


LECTURE  III.  65 

of  human  knowledge  outside  of  the  pursuits  of 
war,  commerce,  and  the  mechanic  arts.  Now, 
they  can  no  longer  arrogate  for  themselves  so 
high  a  distinction,  hut  as  I  endeavored  to  point 
out  in  my  last  lecture,  we  still  find,  after  running 
through  all  branches  of  human  knowledge,  that 
memory,  accuracy,  correctness  of  taste,  acuteness 
in  tracing  analogies  and  differences,  are  more  com- 
pletely given  by  the  study  of  classical  literature, 
than  any  other  subject,  —  while  concise  and  cor- 
rect reasoning,  aptness  in  applying  discoveries,  the 
perception  of  natural  order  and  harmony,  are  most 
thoroughly  inculcated  by  an  extensive  and  close 
acquaintance  with  mathematics.  In  exploring  the 
vast  treasures  of  classical  literature,  as  in  a  book 
already  finished  and  placed  on  its  appropriate 
shelf,  the  student  is  instructed  as  to  the  chan- 
nels in  which  the  infinitely  flowing  minds  of  the 
Greeks  and  Romans  actually  chose  to  run.  It  is 
the  whole  philosophy  of  established  form,  of  the 
actual,  of  the  past,  of  history.  In  the  mathe- 
matics, on  the  other  hand,  he  observes  how  a  very 
few  principles  of  thought,  which  are  forced  upon 
the  acceptance  of  every  mind  by  their  simplicity 
and  truth,  may  give  rise  to  a  thousand  various, 
and  to  the  untaught,  inconsistent  results,  to  which 
every  day  is  adding  new,  and  to  which  there  is 
apparently  no  end.  It  is  the  philosophy  of  change 
of  the  ideal,  of  the  future,  of  progress.  The  first 
opens  to  us  the   pleasures,  objects,  and  advantages 


66  ON  THE   CAM. 

of  literature,  of  taste,  of  rhetoric,  —  the  second 
unlocks,  as  with  a  master-key,  the  whole  range  of 
the  useful  arts,  of  science,  and  of  logic. 

And  do  not  mistake  me.  In  thus  extending 
the  range  of  classical  and  mathematical  studies 
beyond  what  the  two  expressions  commonly  indi- 
cate to  us,  I  am  going  no  farther  than  is  really 
contemplated  by  their  eager  votaries  at  Cam- 
bridge. Studied  as  they  are  there,  in  a  constant 
course  of  three  years  and  a  half,  and  with  the 
full  intention  after  youthful  emulation  has  been 
rewarded,  and  the  announcement  of  well-earned 
honors  proclaims  that  the  taskmaster  is  dismissed, 
of  continuing  within  the  same  honored  walls,  to 
plunge  yet  deeper  into  the  sacred  mysteries  ; 
they  are  pursued  with  a  zeal,  a  thoroughness, 
a  devotion,  which  does  permit  their  worshippers 
to  expect  the  highest  attainments,  and  makes 
the  picture  I  have  drawn  of  their  effect  on  the 
human  mind  something  more  than  rhetorical  rhap- 
sody. Add  to  this  that  they  have  been  the  favor- 
ite studies  for  three  hundred  years,  a  length  of 
time  in  which  any  system,  however  doubtful  its 
first  principles,  must  have  fallen  into  a  practical 
shape,  and  you  will,  I  think,  be  ready  to  allow 
that  such  interesting  studies,  so  long  honored,  and 
so  faithfully  carried  out,  must  be  a  useful  system 
for  training  young  men.  So  much  for  the  theory. 
In  a  future  part  of  this  course  I  shall  invite  your 
attention  to  some  of  the  practical  results,  in  the 
lives  of  Cambridge  graduates. 


LECTURE   III.  67 

I  propose  iu  the  present  lecture  to  call  your 
attention  to  the  methods  of  study  and  instruction 
adopted  in  the  University  and  the  separate  col- 
leges. In  this  point  Cambridge  lias  long  been 
remarkable,  differing  from  all  other  institutions 
of  learning.  Some  few  other  colleges  have  par- 
tially adopted  her  system,  but  none  in  the  entire 
thoroughness  and  perfection  of  its  details.  Yet 
such  are  its  advantages,  the  facility  of  its  prac- 
tical operation,  the  general  correctness  of  its  re- 
sults, that,  although  beyond  a  doubt  the  Univer- 
sities are  of  less  importance  in  England  than  they 
once  were,  yet  this  Cambridge  system  has  taken  a 
hold  on  the  consent  of  the  English  people  which 
seems  unshakable,  and  is  employed  for  a  thousand 
purposes  and  among  a  thousand  bodies,  the  most 
alien  apparently  to  the  University  in  spirit. 

The  system  in  brief  is,  —  to  subject  all  candi- 
dates for  all  University  and  college  distinctions 
to  the  test  of  competitive  written  examinations, 
held  at  distinct  and  not  frequent  occasions, — and 
to  allow  the  preparation  and  study  for  these  ex- 
aminations to  be  held  whenever  and  in  whatever 
way  each  individual  thinks  proper. 

Hence  we  have  no  class  system,  no  daily  recita- 
tions, no  course  of  study,  no  list  of  rank,  no  les- 
sons, no  text-books,  none  of  the  paraphernalia  of 
an  American  college,  at  least  as  officially  recog- 
nized. Some  of  these  things  exist,  but  they  exist 
as    tradition,   or  choice,  or  convenience   have   die- 


68  ON  THE   CAM. 

tated  them,  —  they  are  not  part  of  the  regular 
machinery  of  the  University.  The  theory  in  the 
minds  of  the  authorities,  as  far  as  they  would  con- 
sent to  admit  any  theory,  is  this :  —  "  Let  us  pro- 
pose to  examine  our  undergraduates  in  certain 
branches,  at  certain  intervals.  Let  us  assemble  in 
Cambridge  all  manner  of  instructors,  lecturers, 
and  other  helps  to  prepare  for  these  examinations, 
and  then  let  us  leave  our  young  men  to  select  for 
themselves.  If  they  really  wish  to  study,  —  if 
they  really  seek  to  come  up  to  the  standard  of  the 
examinations,  —  each  will  select  his  own  course 
and  his  own  instructor  better  than  we  can  select 
for  him.  If  they  do  not  wish  to  study,  if  they 
care  nothing  about  competition,  if  they  can  bring 
no  heart  to  their  work,  it  will  be  entirely  useless 
on  our  part  to  attempt  by  any  compulsion  or  pre- 
scription to  make  them  work  under  any  course  or 
instructors  we  may  choose."  I  do  not  propose 
now  to  investigate  the  logic  of  this  theory,  the 
whole  consideration  of  that  will  come  more  appro- 
priately hereafter ;  let  us  now  take  the  fact,  and 
see  how  this  theory  is  practically  worked  out. 

A  youth  then  comes  up,  as  the  phrase  is,  to 
Cambridge  University,  to  compete  for  its  scholas- 
tic honors.  He  is  offered  at  the  termination  of 
three  years  and  a  half,  or  rather  ten  terms  from 
the  time  of  entrance,  five  examinations,  either  or 
all  of  which  he  can  enter.  All  who  answer  the 
questions  there  set,  satisfactorily,  are  entitled  to  re- 


LECTURE  ffl.  69 

ceive  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts.  The  subjects 
of  the  five  examinations  are :  First,  Mathematical 
Science.  Second,  Classical  Literature  and  Ancient 
History.  Third,  Natural  Science.  Fourth,  Moral 
Science.  Fifth,  Law.  But  the  last  three,  as  you 
will  have  already  understood,  are  of  recent  intro- 
duction, of  minor  importance,  and  have  never 
thoroughly  taken  root  at  Cambridge. 

The  examinations  in  the  two  great  subjects  of 
classics  and  mathematics  being  much  the  most  im- 
portant of  all  in  Cambridge,  and  being  the  goal  of 
nearly  all  the  aspirants  for  distinction,  a  full  de- 
scription of  what  they  actually  are  will  not  be 
out  of  place.  In  all  essential  forms,  the  others  are 
but  copies  of  them.  The  candidates  are  drawn 
from  all  the  colleges  alike.  Thev  assemble,  on  a 
Tuesday  morning,  at  nine  o'clock,  soon  after  New- 
Year's  Day,  in  front  of  the  Senate-House.  All 
are  in  their  academic  dress  of  cap  and  gown.  A 
few  sympathizing  friends  who  have  already  passed 
the  trial,  a  few  expectant  friends  who  have  not, 
see  them  to  the  door.  A  list  of  their  names  has 
been  previously  suspended  in  all  public  places  some 
time  before.  The  Senate-House  is  the  building 
where  all  the  public  exercises  —  other  than  relig- 
ious—  of  tiie  University  are  held.  Outside  it  is  a 
sufficiently  respectable  Palladian  building  ;  inside, 
a  men;  mockery.  It  has  a  plaster  ceiling  orna- 
mented with  very  doubtful  reliefs  ;  statues  of 
William  Pitt  and  two  or  three  Georges,  and  some 


70  ON  THE   CAM. 

solid,  substantial  wood-work  in  the  wainscoting 
and  gallery.  I  mention  all  these  apparently  trivial 
circumstances,  because  the  Senate-House  is  really 
a  disgrace  to  Cambridge.  On  one  occasion,  Mr. 
Gladstone  was  addressing  a  vast  audience  there, 
and  as  he  is  a  member  of  the  sister  University,  he 
thought  Oxford  politeness  required  him  to  compli 
ment  "  the  beautifully  decorated  building  where  we 
were  assembled  "  ;  whereat  Cambridge  politeness 
was  sorely  put  to  it  to  keep  from  laughing.  Into 
this  pen  of  learning  the  candidates  for  mathemati- 
cal honors  pour,  and  seat  themselves  at  solid  tables 
on  solid  benches,  —  thinking  of  very  little  in  the 
Senate-House  besides  the  floor ;  which  is  of  stone, 
and  very  chilling  to  the  feet  in  January.  As  the 
hands  of  the  great  University  clock  on  the  church 
outside  are  seen  to  approach  nine,  an  examiner,  or 
some  University  official,  takes  his  station  at  the 
head  of  each  of  eight  lines  of  tables,  with  a  pile  of 
the  printed  examination  papers,  damp  from  the 
press.  The  instant  the  first  stroke  is  heard,  a 
rapid  race  down  the  tables  begins,  a  paper  being 
dropped  at  every  man.  Sometimes  an  experi- 
enced distributer  will  get  through  his  line,  and 
begin  in  going  up  the  next  to  meet  some  slower 
dignitary  coming  down.  These  papers,  and  plenty 
of  writing-paper,  pens,  and  ink,  supplied  gratui- 
tously —  hear,  O  Harvard  faculty  !  —  to  all  the 
examined,  are  all  the  means  at  the  disposal  of  the 
candidates.     They  contain,  on  this  first  day,  ques- 


LECTURE   III.  71 

tions  on  the  elements  of  mathematics,  the  divine 
Euclid,  and  other  easy  geometrical  subjects,  —  all 
such  as  can  be  found  in  approved  treatises,  or 
easily  deducible  therefrom.  They  are  set  by  four 
gentlemen,  of  whom  two  are  called  moderators, 
because  anciently  it  was  their  business  to  moder- 
ate in  the  mathematical  disputes  of  which  the  ex- 
amination in  part  consisted.  They  are  chosen 
from  the  colleges  in  rotation,  from  the  graduates 
of  most  distinguished  attainments. 

Over  this  paper  of  questions  the  candidates  are 
allowed  three  hours,  but  may  go  out  as  much  sooner 
as  they  wish,  —  not  of  course  to  come  in  again  ;  — 
for  it  is  a  maxim  running  through  the  whole  of 
Cambridge  instruction,  that  a  man  is  not  to  be  put  to 
do  more  than  he  wants  to.  If  his  declining  to  work 
on  a  paper  subjects  him  to  failure  and  loss,  that  is 
his  lookout.  At  twelve,  then,  they  must  stop.  At 
one,  another  three  hours'  paper.  The  next  day, 
the  same,  and  the  next.  Then  a  pause  of  ten  days, 
while  the  work  of  the  previous  three,  all  on  the 
easier  departments  of  mathematics,  is  looked  over. 
All  those  who  have  passed  the  minimum  asked  by 
the  examiners,  are  now  announced  as  "  having  ac- 
quitted themselves  so  as  to  deserve  mathematical 
honors."  The  rest,  ()  dreadful  word,  and  thrice 
dreadful  fate,  have  their  names  published  no  more, 
and  are  "  plucked.''  The  degree  of  Bachelor  of 
Arts  is  not  for  them  as  far  as  mathematics  goes. 
With  these  three  days,  the  ambition  of  most  stops; 


72  ON   THE   CAM. 

it  does  require  a  good  deal  of  knowledge  to  pass 
them  with  distinction  ;  a  knowledge  of  all  the 
principles,  and  ten  times  the  detail  involved  in  the 
mathematical  course  in  the  first  two  years  at  an 
American  college.  On  the  tenth  day  after  they 
end,  begins  the  five  days'  examination,  on  real 
tough  mathematics,  beginning  with  the  differential 
calculus,  and  going  up  to  the  highest  calculation 
of  astronomy  and  optics.  "  Few  are  the  strag- 
glers, following  far,"  who  stay  in  after  the  pre- 
scribed half  hour  in  the  last  few  papers  of  these 
dreadful  five  days,  three  hours  morning  and  after- 
noon. O,  many  are  the  luncheons,  mighty  the 
dinners  consumed  in  these  eight  days.  Science 
must  be  fed.  The  most  uncompromising  appetites 
I  ever  saw  were  among  my  most  learned  and  suc- 
cessful friends  in  England. 

After  the  five  days,  everybody  takes  a  rest. 
On  the  last  Friday  in  January,  or  thereabouts,  the 
result  of  their  examination  is  announced.  Again 
the  candidates  assemble  in  the  Senate-House  a  few 
minutes  before  nine,  or  rather  their  friends,  for  the 
candidates  themselves  don't  like  to  go  much.  A 
proctor  appears  in  the  gallery  with  a  list.  Five 
hundred  upturned  faces  below  listen  eagerly  for 
his  first  words.  The  clock  strikes  nine.  "  Senior 
Wrangler,  —  Romer  of  Trinity  Hall."  A  tumult- 
uous, furious,  insane  shout  bursts  forth,  caps  fly 
up  into  the  air,  the  dust  rises  immeasurable,  and  it 
takes  many  minutes  to  restore  the  order  that  greets 


LECTURE   III.  73 

the  announcement  of  the  greatest  honor  the 
University  can  bestow  for  that  year.  "  Second 
Wrangler,  —  Leeke  of  Trinity."  Another  burst 
of  cheering  that  would  be  called  terrific,  had  the 
other  not  preceded  it.  "  Third,"  and  so  on  down 
through  the  Wranglers,  or  first  class.  Now  look 
out.  The  proctors  in  the  gallery,  each  armed 
with  their  file  of  printed  lists,  proceed  to  scatter 
them  to  the  multitude  below.  Talk  of  Italian 
beggars,  beasts  at  a  menagerie  ;  why,  the  rush, 
the  scuffle,  the  trampling,  the  crushing  of  caps 
and  cap-bearers  in  a  shapeless  mass,  the  tearing 
of  gowns,  coats,  and  the  very  papers  that  come 
slowly  floating  down,  hardly  ever  to  reach  the 
fluor,  beats  any  tumult  I  ever  saw,  except  the  con- 
tention for  coppers  of  the  Irish  beggars  on  the 
wharf  at  Queenstown,  before  the  tug-boat  leaves 
for  the  Cunard  steamer.  At  length  all  are  dis- 
tributed, and  the  successful  retire  with  the  failing 
to  talk  over  the  list  of  mathematical  honors  for  a 
day. 

Each  competitor  is  marked  by  the  examiners 
according  to  the  questions  he  has  wholly  or  par- 
tially answered.  His  marks  being  added  together, 
his  individual  place  is  determined  according  to  the 
aggregate.  Then  lines  are  drawn,  so  as  to  divide 
the  whole  number,  generally  about  a  hundred,  into 
three  classes  of  about  thirty-three  or  four  each  ; 
but  often  the  division  is  very  unequal :  for  the 
preference  is  to  draw  the  class  lines  where  there 


74  ON  THE   CAM. 

is  a  great  gap  between  the  marks  of  successive 
individuals.  The  relics  of  the  old  disputes  are 
seen  in  the  names  of  the  classes ;  the  second  and 
third  are  called  senior  and  junior  uptimes,  because 
of  old  when  a  candidate  had  ended  his  dispute, 
the  examiner  said  to  him,  "  optime  disputasti"  — 
"  very  well  fought,  sir."  And  those  in  the  first 
class  are  called  emphatically  wranglers,  the  head 
being  called  the  senior.  Observe,  this  whole  sys- 
tem, with  its  technicalities,  is  peculiar  to  Cam- 
bridge. In  Oxford,  the  examinations  are  on  a 
different  plan  altogether.  Some  Americans  think 
themselves  very  wise  by  talking  about  persons  who 
were  senior  wranglers  at  Oxford.  This  is  like  the 
well-meaning,  but  ignorant  people,  who  will  allude 
to  a  public  day  at  Harvard,  when  half  the  parts 
are  taken  by  seniors,  as  the  "  Junior  Exhibition." 
In  about  three  weeks  from  the  announcement 
of  the  mathematical  honors,  comes  the  examina- 
tion for  the  classical.  This  lasts  five  days  and  a 
half,  and  is  conducted  in  other  respects  precisely 
like  the  former.  In  the  morning  papers  of  the 
first  four  days,  the  competitors  have  passages  given 
them  out  of  the  best  English  authors,  prose  and 
verse,  to  translate  into  Latin  and  Greek  prose  and 
verse,  without  any  assistance  but  writing  materials, 
at  the  rate  of  say  twenty-one  lines  of  Byron  to  put 
into  Greek  tragic  verse  in  three  hours.  In  the 
afternoons  of  the  same  days,  and  the  whole  of  the 
fifth,  passages  to  translate  from  Latin  and  Greek 


LECTURE   III.  75 

into  English;  the  last  half  day,  questions  in  his- 
tory. The  result  is  announced  as  before,  and  the 
head  man  is  called  Senior  Classic. 

And  that  is  all.  I  mean  that  all  that  a  student 
does  to  obtain  University  honors,  to  appear  before 
the  world  as  standing  in  the  list  of  those  whom 
Cambridge  pronounces  her  faithful  sons,  is  told, 
as  far  as  the  University  is  concerned.  In  these 
two  examinations,  which  are  called  by  the  curious 
old  name  of  Tripos,  the  student  only  knows  that, 
socratically,  he  knows  nothing  about  it ;  that  is, 
any  problem  or  principle  may  be  set  in  mathemat- 
ics from  adding  two  and  two  to  calculating  a  plan- 
et's orbit :  and  any  passage  set  for  translation  into 
or  out  of  Latin  and  Greek,  from  Homer  to  Quin- 
tilian,  and  from  Sir  John  Mandeville  to  Jean 
Ingelow.  In  fact,  the  taste  of  examiners  does 
run  principally  on  the  very  oldest  and  very  new- 
est English  writers  as  suitable  to  turn  into  Latin 
and  Greek.  The  range  of  questions,  then,  is  abso- 
lutely infinite  and  unprescribed  ;  to  be  sure  it  has 
fallen  into  a  traditionary  rut,  but  a  pretty  wide 
one.  You  see,  therefore,  how  immense  must  be 
the  labor  to  prepare  for  them,  or  else  how  very 
judiciously  applied,  in  order  that,  —  it  being  mani- 
festly  impossible  to  study  in  three  years,  even 
when  the  former  work  of  school-life  is  added,  all 
that  is  possible  to  be  asked,  —  the  competitors  may 
select  the  probable  questions,  and  those  which  will 
in  any  case  be  useful.      Think  how  immeasurably 


76  ON  THE  CAM. 

superior  a  knowledge  of  this  kind  is  to  the  sorry 
business  of  getting  twenty  problems  or  one  hun- 
dred lines  as  a  lesson,  to  say  off  one  day  and  forget 
the  next.  It  is  manifest  that  very  careful  and  ju- 
dicious instruction  is  required,  that  students  may 
know  exactly  what  and  how  much  to  read  out  of 
this  vast  range,  that  they  may  be  prepared  for  the 
worst. 

Who  gives  this  instruction  ?  Not  the  Univer- 
sity. Not  one  word  of  instruction  does  the  great 
body  of  all  the  colleges  offer,  except  some  lec- 
tures, semi-occasional ly,  from  the  professors  of 
Greek  and  Mathematics.  For  the  trials  proposed 
by  her,  training  must  not  be  sought  from  her. 
Is  it  from  the  Colleges,  then,  that  this  instruc- 
tion is  to  be  obtained?  Yes,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent. Each  college,  according  to  its  wealth,  the 
number  of  its  students,  or  what  generally  is  the 
great  moving  cause,  the  activity  or  laziness  of  its 
authorities,  has  a  provision  for  the  instruction  of 
those  residing  within  its  walls.  It  has  its  own 
examinations,  generally  once  a  year,  or,  as  we 
should  say,  for  the  members  of  each  class ;  and 
these  are  progressive,  —  on  some  specified  easy 
ancient  authors  the  first  year,  and  the  first 
branches  of  Mathematics ;  more  difficult  the  second 
year  ;  and  in  the  third,  ranging  as  high  as  Aristotle 
and  the  integral  calculus.  Each  college  adopts 
its  own  system  of  classifying  those  who  pass  these 
examinations,   which  are,   I  believe,  in  all  cases 


LECTURE  III.  77 

compulsory,  and  awards  prizes  to  those  who  stand 
highest.  But  to  get  through — just  to  do  the  min- 
imum—  is  very  easy,  and  a  great  many  of  the 
best  do  nothing  more  ;  saying  that  the  preparation 
interferes  with  their  regular  work.  They  gen- 
erally comprehend  something  more  than  just  the 
three  old  standbys ;  e.  g.  moral  philosophy,  ancient 
history,  and  in  particular  very  great  attention  is 
paid  at  College  examinations  to  the  study  of  the 
Greek  Testament.  To  prepare  for  these  special 
examinations,  of  which  the  subjects  are  always 
announced  beforehand,  there  is  a  great  system  of 
College  Lectures.  And  in  connection  with  the 
College  Lectures  and  lecturers,  I  beg  to  introduce 
to  you  that  ubiquitous  and  very  important  person- 
age, the  College  Tutor.  Under  this  name  pray  do 
not  conceive  of  a  young  man  just  out  of  college, 
whose  circumstances  make  it  convenient  for  him 
to  take  a  share  in  college  teaching.  No ;  the 
tutor  is  generally  one  of  the  older  graduates  of  the 
college,  and  always  the  best  man,  the  most  impor- 
tant, the  one  whom  of  all  others  they  would  pick 
out  to  represent  themselves.  He  is  almost  always 
a  clergyman.  To  him,  or  them  —  for  in  a  very 
large  college  there  will  be  two,  three,  or  even 
more  —  is  intrusted  the  whole  care  of  the  under- 
graduates. As  fast  as  the  young  men  enter  col- 
lege, they  are  told  olf  to  one  or  the  other  of  the 
tutors — are  said  to  be  "on  his  side"  —  and  un- 
der his  control  they  remain  to  the  end  of  their 


78  ON   THE   CAM. 

undergraduate  course.  He  has  the  assignment  of 
rooms,  the  charge  of  bills,  the  appointment  and 
dismissal  of  lecturers  to  teach,  and  of  college  ser- 
vants to  cheat.  He  administers  not  the  ordinary, 
but  the  extraordinary  blowings-up.  With  the 
head  of  the  college,  a  very  awful  being  who  in 
most  colleges  has  the  title  of  Master,  the  student 
has  very  little  to  do ;  all  his  real  college  affairs, 
petitions,  remonstrances,  &c,  of  every  kind,  going 
through  the  tutor.  It  is  evident,  then,  that  where 
each  tutor  has  some  hundred  and  fifty  young 
men's  individualities  to  look  after,  and  a  principal 
share  in  the  general  operation  of  the  college  to 
look  after,  he  has  not  much  time  for  instruction. 
Still,  each  tutor  generally  contrives  to  give  a 
course  of  lectures  every  term,  of  which  there  are 
three  in  a  year,  and  they  do  find  time  to  squeeze 
out  a  great  deal  of  private  instruction,  in  the 
most  generous  manner.  Many  a  poor  young  man 
would  have  failed  entirely  to  prepare  himself  for 
his  great  trials,  on  the  success  of  which  hinges  his 
life's  support,  but  for  the  unfailing,  liberal,  fatherly 
attention  of  his  tutor,  by  his  own  instructions,  and 
those  he  obtains  for  him.  Let  me  bear  my  testi- 
mony here  to  the  admirable  manner  in  which 
these  few  score  of  men — for  there  are  not  more 
tutors  in  all  the  seventeen  colleges  —  manage  the 
interests  of  sixteen  hundred  undergraduates  who 
scarcely  know  to  whom  they  are  indebted  for  their 
eountless  advantages. 


LECTURE   III.  79 

The  tutor  appoints  assistants,  whom  he  pays  out 
of  the  annual  payments  of  the  undergraduates, 
which  all  go  through  his  hands,  to  lecture  for  him. 
There  are  generally  six  or  eight  lectures  delivered 
in  a  large  college  like  Trinity  every  day,  mostly 
on  the  subjects  of  the  college-examinations  at  the 
end  of  the  year,  hut  some  on  other  branches  of 
classical  and  mathematical  study,  applicable  in  the 
last  great  trial.  There  are  also  lectures  siiited  to 
the  students  not  candidates  for  these  arduous  hon- 
ors, of  whom  more  hereafter.  The  members  of 
the  college  are  required,  as  a  matter  of  discipline, 
to  attend  some  of  these  lectures,  but  by  no  means 
to  attend  to  them.  Once  in  a  while,  when  a  very 
stirring  lecturer  comes  along,  such  as  the  present 
learned  and  witty  bursar  of  Trinity  College,  every- 
body wakes  up  and  takes  notes ;  but  in  general, 
there  is  much  more  orumblinrr  about  having:  to  at- 
tend  these  lectures,  where  you  can  learn  a  great 
deal,  and  need  not  learn  anything,  than  at  our 
recitations,  where  you  have  to  be  more  or  less  up 
to  the  mark  all  the  time.  The  lectures  are  ex- 
ceedingly learned,  the  lecturer  doing  pretty  much 
what  tutor  and  student  between  them  do  in  an 
American  college. 

But  this  instruction,  elaborate  as  it  is,  docs  not 
suit  the  best  of  the  English  students.  It  does  not 
work  in  well  to  their  system.  And  that  svstem  is, 
that  every  one,  on  entrance,  sketches  out  for  him- 
self a  general   plan    of  what   he   ought  to  do  and 


80  ON   THE   CAM. 

can  do,  what  examinations  he  will  enter  for,  what 
stand  he  will  take,  and  then  prepares  himself  in 
his  own  way.  And  this  he  does  by  means  of  his 
private  tutor. 

The  nature  and  history,  or,  I  might  say,  the 
natural  history  of  these  private  tutors  is  among  the 
most  curious  developments  of  Cambridge.  They 
are  not  in  the  least  what  the  name  imports  to  us, 
a  private  guardian,  engaged  by  the  parents  to 
superintend  the  whole  course  of  a  young  man's 
life,  and  require  as  well  as  arrange  his  studies. 
No,  even  the  richest  noblemen  very  seldom  bring 
such  a  domestic  animal  to  Cambridge  with  them. 
The  only  instance,  except  that  of  the  Prince  of 
Wales,  that  I  was  aware  of,  was  the  son  of  a  rich 
foreign  merchant.  The  principal  event  recorded 
of  his  tuition  was,  that  this  guardian  feared  his 
pupil's  morals  would  be  injured  by  going  to  New- 
market races,  which  are  indeed  a  fruitful  source  of 
temptation,  being  only  sixteen  miles  from  Cam- 
bridge, and,  to  prevent  any  surreptitious  visit, 
himself  rode  to  the  races  on  his  pupil's  horse. 
The  regular  private  tutor  is  generally  known,  even 
by  authorities,  as  a  "  coach  "  ;  but  neither  under 
this  name,  however,  or  any  other,  is  he  recognized 
in  any  official  way.  A  student  may  change  his 
tutor  ten  times  in  his  course,  —  now  coaching,  as 
we  say,  with  this  man,  now  with  that ;  he  may 
fail  or  succeed  in  a  dozen  examinations,  owing  to 
the  good  or  bad  instruction  he  receives  ;  he  may, 


LECTURE  III.  81 

above  all,  pay  his  tutor  many  a  ten-pound  note, 
and  yet  no  official  recognition  whatever  is  made  of 
a  class  of  men  whose  position  is  certainly  the  most 
important  and  nearly  the  most  lucrative  in  the 
University.  There  is  no  injustice  in  all  this ;  it  is 
only  a  working  out  of  the  general  principle  of  the 
institution,  to  find  out,  at  stated  seasons,  in  the 
most  thorough  manner  possible,  what  a  young  man 
knows,  without  seeking  to  inquire  how  he  knows  it. 
The  private  tutors  are  of  all  ages  and  positions 
in  scholarship.  The  most  celebrated  instructor  in 
classics  now  resident  in  Cambridge  took  the  sec- 
ond  honors  of  his  own  year  thirty  years  ago.  The 
most  renowned  mathematical  coach,  on  the  other 
hand,  not  more  than  ten  years  ago.  The  first 
thing  generally  done  by  a  young  man  who  has 
taken  his  own  degree  with  distinction,  is  to  look 
about  for  pupils  among  the  undergraduates  of  his 
own  and  other  colleges,  for  it  is  by  no  means 
necessary  that  a  student  should  confine  himself  to 
his  own  college  for  private  instruction.  Almost 
all  the  tuition  I  received  at  Cambridge  was  by 
members  of  St.  John's  College,  being  myself  resi- 
dent at  Trinity.  Of  course,  the  young  instructor 
who  has  only  just  finished  his  own  undergraduate 
course,  must  put  Tip  with  such  pupils  as  he  can 
get,  and  they  will  not  be  very  brilliant  or  ad- 
vanced ones,  but  either  young  men  just  entered, 
with  their  powers  and  intentions  hardly  deter- 
mined, or  men  far  advanced  in  residence  but  not 


82  ON  THE   CAM. 

in  knowledge,  who  are  determined  by  dint  of  con- 
stant tuition  to  scrape  through  for  one  of  the  last 
places.  As  he  grows  older  in  instruction,  his  pu- 
pils will  improve.  If  his  efforts  have  been  success- 
ful with  the  poor  ones,  he  will  attract  to  himself 
the  better  ones,  till  he  is  sought  out  by  those  who 
are  now  in  their  last  year  in  college,  and  working 
for  the  highest  places  in  the  lists  of  rank.  Such 
men  it  is  a  pleasure  rather  than  a  task  to  instruct. 
Many  a  tutor  at  Cambridge  has  felt  his  heart  glow 
to  think  that  his  beloved  pupil  will  soon  attain  a 
place  in  these  lists  of  honors  higher  than  was  his 
own,  and  delight  to  point  to  him  in  the  course  of 
a  triumphant  career  in  the  bar,  the  pulpit,  or  the 
senate,  as  one  of  his  boys.  The  competition  to 
obtain  a  place  with  a  favorite  coach  is  immense, 
application  often  being  made  a  year  beforehand, 
and  the  special  pleading  of  the  college  tutor  or 
some  other  distinguished  friend  invoked  to  secure 
the  place. 

"  What,"  you  will  say,  "  are  these  tutors  so  lim- 
ited in  their  numbers  ?  "  Yes,  indeed,  when  like 
the  distinguished  classical  scholar  I  alluded  to  a 
little  while  ago,  they  give  an  hour  every  other 
day  to  each  pupil  by  himself.  Ten  hours'  hard 
work  a  day  has  been  thought  enough  for  mechan- 
ics and  tradesmen,  —  how  much  more  for  the 
head  work  of  classical  instruction.  So  that  to 
have  twenty  pupils  at  once  is  what  the  hardiest 
instructors  must  make  their  extreme  limit.     Those 


LECTURE  III.  83 

who  are  enticing  the  youth  of  England  over  the 
gorgeous  mosaic  that  paves  the  sweet  meanderings 
of  the  labyrinth  of  conic  sections,  or  fitting  wings 
whereby  youthful  shoulders  may  be  raised  to  the 
salient  points  of  the  differential  calculus,  —  I  mean 
mathematical  instructors,  —  are  beginning  to  take 
an  indefinite  number  of  pupils,  and  collect  them  in 
large  classes,  but  still  this  is  rather  for  competition 
than  instruction  ;  and  you  may  be  sure,  that  the 
better  a  student  is,  the  more  strictly  he  takes  his 
own  way  for  study,  and  eschews  all  idea  of  a 
course. 

A  few  words  here  on  the  general  line  of  study 
pursued  by  all  instructors  for  all  pupils  in  the  two 
great  departments.  It  is,  perhaps,  not  so  much 
higher  as  is  commonly  supposed  than  our  own  ;  but 
it  is  very  different.  The  mathematical  treatises 
are  all  based  on  the  forms  of  Euclid  and  Newton. 
The  course  of  mathematical  study  ranges  from  sim- 
ple arithmetic  to  the  most  difficult  problems  of 
optics  and  astronomy.  It  is,  however,  put  in  a 
very  concise  and  conventional  form,  very  different 
from  the  expansiveness  of  French  mathematics  ; 
and  many  who  attain  extreme  proficiency  in  it, 
have  never  paid  any  attention  to  more  than  the 
most  fundamental  principles  on  coining  to  Cam- 
bridge. The  case  of  classical  studies,  of  Latin 
and  Greek,  is  very  different.  The  training  in  the 
Greek  and  Latin  languages  acquired  at  the  great 
English    public   schools,    like    Eton,    Harrow,   and 


84  ON  THE  CAM. 

Rugbj,  is  certainly  very  much  superior  to  any  ac- 
quired at  our  colleges  by  the  required  course  of 
instruction.  I  do  not  think,  however,  that  the 
Latin  and  Greek  literature,  antiquities,  and  his- 
tory, are  understood  by  many  very  good  gradu- 
ates of  Cambridge  and  Oxford  any  better  than 
by  the  best  from  Harvard  or  Yale ;  and  far  less 
in  bulk,  though  probably  rather  better  arranged, 
than  the  flood  of  collateral  knowledge  acquired  at 
the  great  seats  of  German  erudition.  The  great 
work,  as  I  have  indicated  in  my  account  of  the  ex- 
aminations, is  to  put  Latin  and  Greek  prose  and 
verse  into  accurate  and  idiomatic  English ;  for  bad 
English  will  condemn  a  translation  quite  as  soon  as 
incorrect  rendering.  There  is  none  of  that  timid- 
ity which  in  all  our  schools  and  colleges  accepts 
a  piece  of  dog-English,  containing  neither  sound, 
sense,  nor  idiom,  under  the  name  of  a  "  literal 
translation,"  and  gives  it  a  maximum  mark.  And 
again  :  the  second  half  of  a  classical  scholar's  work 
is  not  to  put  into  doubtful  Latin  or  Greek  prose  a 
passage  of  English  already  adapted  from  an  ancient 
author,  but  to  produce  a  first-rate  idiomatic  version 
in  prose  or  verse  of  the  best  passages  of  the  best 
English  authors,  —  Burke,  Addison,  Shakespeare, 
Goldsmith.  The  high  standard  of  excellence  here- 
in attained  is  shown  by  such  publications  as  Lord 
Lyttelton's  translation  of  Comus  into  the  style  of 
the  Greek  tragedians,  and  the  beautiful  Virgilian 
reproduction  of  Keats' s  Hyperion  by  that  most  ac- 


lecture  m.  85 

complislied  son  of  Cambridge,  the  historian  Me- 
rivale,  whose  admirable  chronicle  of  the  Early 
Empire  seems  destined  to  become  a  standard  Eng- 
lish classic,  as  the  first  portion  of  a  solid  causeway 
which  is  needed  to  connect  the  adamantine  struc- 
ture of  the  mighty  Gibbon,  and  the  graceful  arches 
of  the  lamented  Arnold. 

It  is  evident,  then,  that  the  work  of  the  private 
tutor  is  merely  supplementary  and  ancillary  to 
that  of  the  student  himself.  The  tutor  sees  his 
pupil  generally  three  hours  in  the  course  of  a 
week.  The  rest  of  the  time  devoted  to  study,  — 
and  this  space  amounts  with  a  vast  number  to  six, 
with  many  to  eight,  and  sometimes  to  ten  hours  a 
day,  —  the  student  is  alone,  acting  indeed  on  the 
advice,  and  by  the  direction  of  his  tutor,  but  still 
pursuing  his  chosen  course  by  and  for  himself. 
For  the  great  trials,  where  nearly  two  hundred  of 
the  noblest  youth  of  the  world  appear  every  year 
to  grapple  in  an  intellectual  struggle  to  which  the 
physical  efforts  accompanying  the  fiendish  bar- 
barities of  the  prize-ring  are  as  child's  play,  each 
one  has  with  fear  and  trembling  sought  to  work 
out  his  own  destiny. 

Here,  then,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  you  have  the 
principles  of  the  Cambridge  system  of  instruction, 
and,  as  far  as  there  is  any,  the  Cambridge  course 
of  study.  Competition  and  emulation  in  the  final 
trials  ;  private  study  and  individual  selection  of 
work  for  the   means.      It   is  by  the  combination 


86  ON  THE   CAM. 

of  these  two  principles,  to  their  fullest  extent, 
that  Cambridge  credits  the  high  standard  of  lite- 
rary and  scientific  excellence,  the  high  reputation 
for  judicious  training,  and  the  honored  name  of 
the  mother  of  great  men,  which  she  has  sustained 
so  long  throughout  England  and  the  world. 

And  first  of  the  competition.  You  will  have 
seen  by  my  previous  account,  how  thoroughly  and 
deeply  this  enters  into  the  very  soul  of  the  Cam- 
bridge system.  There  is  no  honor  to  be  attained, 
no  prize  to  be  won,  no  position  to  be  secured, 
without  a  competitive  examination,  where  the 
work  of  each  combatant  has  its  value  assigned  by 
an  established  standard,  and  his  final  place  in  ac- 
cordance with  this  scrutiny  announced  in  the  most 
public  manner.  From  the  moment  a  boy  enters 
college,  a  thousand  eager  eyes  are  on  him,  a  thou- 
sand channels  of  information  are  drained  to  know 
what  position  he  will  take ;  and  long  before  he  has 
officially  entered  the  University,  it  has  been  pretty 
well  settled  in  the  minds  of  a  great  many,  with 
what  distinction  he  is  to  leave  it.  The  compara- 
tive merits  of  all  the  students,  the  probable  results 
of  all  the  examinations,  major  and  minor,  form  a 
never-failing  subject  of  discussion  in  all  circles,  and 
at  all  times.     Whether  Battie  is  to  be  the  next 

University  scholar,  whether  "VV or  S will 

stand   first   in    classics,   whether  L has   not 

stolen  a  march  over  R ,  by  a  more  judicious 

selection  of  a  mathematical  coach,  —  all  these  are 


LECTURE   III.  87 

questions  which  never  fail  to  enliven  a  weary 
walk,  or  a  stupid  dinner,  long  after  the  boats,  the 
cricket-field,  the  rifle-ground,  the  newspapers,  or 
the  studies  themselves  have  fallen  flat.  Prospec- 
tive success  in  competition  secures  a  man  notice 
among  his  compeers  and  superiors,  and  actual  suc- 
cess, besides  the  immediate  advantages  for  which 
the  contest  was  held,  is  sure  to  put  a  man  in  that 
position,  that  countless  other  advantages  —  secur- 
ing intelligent  and  promising  pupils  for  instance  — 
are  morally  sure  to  follow.  In  one  word,  the  life 
of  a  Cambridge  student  is  a  fight, — and  to  the 
victors  belong  spoils,  though  not  of  the  vanquished. 
And  now,  my  friends,  what  is  this  that  I  hear, 

—  that  emulation  is  only  another  name  for  envy, 

—  that  competition  in  study  produces  the  worst 
possible  results, — that  University  rank  is  an  un- 
worthy object  for  a  generous  young  man  to  pursue? 
Would  you  could  all  go  to  Cambridge  for  your- 
selves, and  see  there  how  completely  untrue  all 
this  is.  The  whole  history  of  Cambridge  disproves 
it.  If  I  had  only  my  own  experience  to  rely  upon, 
I  should  feel  proud  to  name  to  you  all  the  dear 
friends  I  have  across  the  water  ;  all  the  dearer 
to  me,  because  I  enoao-ed  with  them  in  all  these 
glorious,  bloodless  contests,  where,  like  Scott's 
Cavalier, 

"  Our  watchword  was  honor,  our  pay  was  renown." 
But  the  whole  idea  is  monstrous.      What,  that  all 
the  associations,   the  friendslups,  the   mutual  joys 


88  ON  THE  CAM. 

which  must  arise  where  generous  youth  have  lived 
together  for  three  years,  sharing  the  same  meals, 
listening  to  the  same  instruction,  partaking  the 
same  sports,  worshipping  at  the  same  altar ;  — 
where  they  have  been  engaged  in  working  weeks 
and  months  and  years  on  the  same  immortal  truths 
of  science,  the  same  refined  beauties  of  literature, 
comparing  their  progress  day  after  day,  and  hear- 
ing it  compared,  confiding  their  daily  trials  and 
successes  to  each  other  as  no  other  class  of  men 
can,  —  that  all  these  should  be  broken  up  because 
the  value  of  these  very  attainments,  their  very 
progress  is  to  be  subjected  to  the  test  that  they 
have  had  in  view  throughout  their  course  ?  No. 
Emulation  and  envy  cannot  coexist,  —  the  very 
fact  that  we  can,  that  we  do  emulate,  shows  that 
it  is  beneath  us  to  envy.  If  it  were  not  so,  —  if 
all  these  tender  associations,  these  golden  chains 
that  college  life  binds  round  us  were  void,  what 
does  the  very  fact  of  equal  competition  tell  us? 
How  thought  the  Celtic  chieftain,  who  saw  be- 
fore  him  the  man  with  whom  he  must  grapple  in 
the  death-struggle  for  the  realm  of  Scotland  ? 

"  Sir  Roderick  marked,  and  in  his  eyes 
Respect  was  mingled  with  surprise, 
And  that  stern  joy  that  warriors  feel 
In  foemen  worthy  of  their  steel." 

I  know  there  are  those,  in  whom  deep-seated 
envy  is  the  ruling  passion  of  life.  Emulous  or 
not  they  must  hate ;   with  such  I  have  not  to  do. 


LECTURE  III.  89 

But  I  know  by  the  joyful  contests,  the  happy  en- 
counters of  four  years,  the  mornings  and  after- 
noons of  hard  strife,  succeeded  by  the  noon  recess 
of  hasty  comparisons,  and  the  long,  merry  evening 
of  conviviality,  that  the  dearest  friends  are  the 
closest  rivals,  and  the  happiest  hours  are  in  the 
snatches  of  competition. 

But  competition  is  unworthy ;  competition  is 
degrading  ;  rank  is  a  low  object.  Then  what  did 
St.  Paul  mean  by  holding  up  the  Greek  races  as  a 
bright  example  to  Christian  energy  ?  Look  round 
on  the  world  and  tell  me  how  you  are  to  exclude 
from  school  and  college  that  stimulus  which  is 
urging  men  to  madness  in  every  pursuit  of  life. 
Is  the  exchange  no  field  of  competition,  and  is  the 
army  no  field  of  competition  ?  In  the  bar,  in  the 
senate,  in  the  pulpit,  are  there  no  rivals,  no  con- 
tests, no  prizes  ?  Is  the  young  man  whose  athletic 
sports,  whose  sedentary  sports,  whose  literary  rec- 
reations are  all  filled  with  competition,  to  be  kept 
from  it  all  the  hours  of  education,  in  order  to  fit 
him  for  a  world  where  it  is  pre-eminently  the  ruling 
principle?  Studying  for  rank  is  degrading,  is  it ? 
And  in  heaven's  name,  when  there  are  five  hun- 
dred students  all  working  together  on  the  noblest 
intellectual  exercises,  is  patient  industry  to  have 
no  reward,  is  idleness  to  have  no  stigma,  is  genius 
to  lose  its  palm-branch,  and  devotion  its  crown  of 
olive  ?  Shall  the  voice  of  the  authorities  declare 
all  on  a  dead  level,  when  it  is  notorious  that  all 


90  ON  THE  CAM. 

are  not  on  a  dead  level  ?  Is  the  whole  energy  of 
thirty  or  forty  learned  and  wise  men  to  be  bent 
on  making  young  men  study,  and  shall  they  not 
show  by  any  sign  or  reward  who  has  complied  with 
their  entreaties  ?  And  my  dear  young  friends  at 
college,  whose  motives  are  so  high,  whose  con- 
tempt for  the  world's  prizes  is  so  sincere,  whose 
objects  of  pursuit  are  all  so  ennobling,  is  it  not  a 
legitimate  or  worthy  object  for  any  man,  to  seek 
the  proper  position  in  his  society  to  which  his 
merits  and  labors  entitle  him,  and  to  strive  for  the 
appropriate  honor  and  reward  at  the  hands  of  the 
rightful  authorities  ? 

No,  competition  in  itself  is  honorable  and  lawful, 
provided  only  the  means  employed  to  succeed  are 
honorable  and  the  arts  wherein  it  is  exercised. 
And  what  is  the  art  wherein  the  noblest  youths  of 
England  annually  compete  at  Cambridge  ?  Study  ; 
—  study  of  literature  and  science,  study  of  language 
and  of  law,  study  of  whatsoever  things  are  true, 
just,  honest,  pure,  lovely,  and  of  good  report.  I 
have  endeavored  to  enlarge  on  the  array  of  learned 
men  that  has  in  all  ages  been  assembled  at  Cam- 
bridge ;  but  it  needs  not.  The  very  air  of  the 
place  declares  that  it  is  the  home  of  learning,  — 
of  book-learning,  to  employ  the  term  which,  in- 
tended to  be  contemptuous,  is  in  truth  the  height 
of  panegyric.  The  quiet  old  streets,  where  all  the 
bustle  so  common  to  an  English  town  has  been 
toned  into  a  sort  of  dignity  by  the  authority  of  the 


LECTURE   III.  91 

University,  —  the  calm,  wide,  sunny  court-yards, 
of  no  ambitious  design,  but  just  built  and  added  to 
as  the  necessities  and  taste  of  age  after  age  prompt- 
ed for  the  admission  of  the  new  students,  —  the 
cool  arched  cloisters,  that  still  echo  to  the  tread  of 
Macaulay  and  Byron  and  Chesterfield  and  New- 
ton and  Bacon,  and  back  into  the  dark  ages,  which 
were  illumined  only  from  the  two  Universities,  — 
the  quaint,  clerical-looking  dress  of  the  chance 
passer-by,  the  square  cap  and  light  gown,  that 
seems  to  say  scholar  in  every  fold,  —  the  libraries, 
the  museums,  the  Senate-House,  the  daily  conver- 
sation, the  technical  terms,  the  habits,  all  breathe 
one  word,  —  Study,  Study. 

There  are  those  who  see  in  this  picture  nothing 
attractive.  A  student,  a  man  of  books,  is  to  them 
a  shell-fish  sort  of  being,  on  whose  flesh  others 
may  feed  with  delight  after  his  death,  provided 
you  add  pepper  and  salt  in  abundance,  but  whose 
life  is  the  acme  of  dryness  and  stupidity.  To  such 
I  neither  have  nor  wish  to  have  an  answer.  I  can 
no  more  argue  with  such  men  than  Mr.  Agassiz 
can  argue  with  a  gorilla,  or  than  General  Grant 
can  argue  with  Mr.  Davis.  But  to  those  who, 
even  if  they  have  not  led  themselves  a  scholastic 
life,  can  yet  value  the  labors,  appreciate  the  pleas- 
ures, court  the  friendship  of  scholars,  it  is  a  delight 
to  dwell  a  little  on  the  true  joys  of  a  life  of  study. 
Tell  me  not  of  the  experience  of  life  to  an  active 
man.     I  will  bring  you  in  history  the  experience 


92  ON  THE  CAM. 

of  forty  centuries  of  men.  Do  not  dwell  on  the 
popular  preacher,  the  exciting  article,  the  scathing 
political  satire.  I  will  find  you  in  ancient  litera- 
ture philosophical  speculations  from  a  heathen  that 
shall  put  your  pulpit-actor  to  silence ;  I  will  read 
you  discussions  of  war  and  peace  that  shall  be 
more  true  as  applied  to  this  very  hour  than  all 
your  quidnuncs  ever  hatched ;  I  will  at  the  same 
moment  make  your  sides  shake  with  laughter,  and 
your  nerves  quiver  with  dread  at  sarcasm,  every 
line  of  which  would  wither  up  whole  columns  of  the 
Saturday  Review.  Talk  to  me  of  the  excitement 
of  interesting  investigations,  of  acute  analysis,  of  re- 
fined calculations  and  building  up  of  facts ;  I  will 
show  you  scholars  at  Cambridge  who  have  traced 
out  the  mysteries  of  the  ancient  tongues,  have  trans- 
fused Burke  into  iEschines,  and  Scott  into  Ovid, 
who  have  raised  a  pyramid  of  mathematical  synthe- 
sis as  solid,  and  to  the  unlearned  as  mystical,  as 
those  of  Egypt,  and  all  from  their  books  alone,  their 
ever  faithful,  beloved  books.  Yes,  beloved ;  it  is 
the  friendship  we  form  for  all  the  grand  old  writ- 
ers that  we  would  not  exchange  for  the  loudest 
conviviality  or  the  most  unflinching  partisanship 
of  all  the  world.  We  live  in  the  eloquence  of 
Demosthenes  till  wre  leap  from  our  seats,  and 
shout  in  ecstasy  at  his  prophecies  of  glory.  We 
hang  on  the  lips  of  Aristotle  till  he  has  bound  us 
and  all  the  world  in  a  net-work  of  irrefragable 
reason   and   rich,    nervous   language.      We   walk 


LECTURE  in.  93 

through  the  boxen  bowers  of  Cicero  till  we  catch 
the  inspiration  from  that  most  genial  of  souls,  and 
feel  as  if  we  too  might  save  our  country  from  a 
Catilinarian  conspiracy.  We  fall  enchanted  into 
the  arms  of  the  sweetest  and  purest  of  mortals, 
and  are  ready  to  barter  all  the  glories  of  the  world 
for  one  hour  on  the  breast  of  Virgil.  We  make  a 
third  in  that  wondrous  company  that  tracked  the 
mysteries  of  the  eternal  prison.  We  sit  in  the 
darkened  chamber  of  Milton  till  his  blindness  be- 
comes our  light,  and  his  misery  our  paradise.  We 
stroll  with  Newton,  picking  up  the  sparkling  peai'ls 
thrown  up  by  the  ocean  of  truth.  We  gaze  rev- 
erently into  the  face  of  Butler,  as  he  leads  us 
from  the  plains  of  earth  up  to  the  very  gate  of 
heaven.  These  are  the  friends  that  never  de- 
ceive, that  never  falter,  that  never  forget,  that 
never  forsake ;  "  they  delight  at  home,  they  speed 
on  the  way,  in  the  loneliness  of  the  night  they 
watch  with  us,  in  exile  and  in  solitude  they  are 
ever  with  us." 

My  friends,  we  live  in  a  stirring  time.  It  seems 
as  if  all  the  pursuits  of  sedentary  life  must  be  dis- 
continued, that  we  may  rush  to  carry  on  the  active 
■work  that  is  pressing  on  ns  from  every  side.  Yet, 
in  the  midst  of  all  this  horror  and  misery,  a  truly 
loyal  citizen,  —  who  knows  that  in  the  war  his  life 
would  be  a  speedy  and  useless  sacrifice,  —  who  in 
the  conduct  of  affairs  places  and  intends  to  place 
implicit    confidence   in   the  courage   and    conduct 


94  ON  THE  CAM. 

of  the  generals,  the  fidelity  and  prudence  of  the 
Chief  Magistrate,  —  such  a  one,  I  say,  is  grateful 
to  Almighty  God,  for  the  ever-growing  pleasure, 
the  undisturbed  labor,  the  spotless  prizes,  the  un- 
tainted occupation  of  scholastic  life.  And,  when 
the  hour  calls,  has  the  scholar  ever  shown  that  his 
retirement  unfits  him  for  his  country's  service  ? 
To-day  *  we  welcome  back  the  glorious  heroes  of 
a  score  of  fights.  To-day  our  streets  are  ringing 
with  shouts  for  the  warriors  that  never  turned 
their  backs  on  the  foe.  To-day  we  are  pressing 
eagerly  the  hard-worn  hands,  and  weeping  on  sun- 
burnt cheeks  of  the  loved  ones  who  have  come 
back  only  to  go  forth  again  ;  and  we  are  straining 
our  eyes  in  the  hope  that  we  may  catch,  by  a  mira- 
cle, a  single  glimpse  of  one  of  those  dear  forms  that 
have  been  reft  forever.  My  friends,  were  there 
none  in  the  Second  Massachusetts  who  exchanged 
the  students'  chamber  for  the  battle-field,  the  vol- 
ume for  the  musket,  the  pen  for  the  bayonet  ? 
Did  not  the  tyrant  quiver  in  his  stronghold  when 
he  heard  that  the  manly  rustic  hearts  that  had 
poured  out  to  drive  him  muttering  back  were  in- 
spired by  those  wdiose  souls  were  kindled  by  the 
flame  of  ancient  and  modern  wisdom  ?  It  is  be- 
cause the  scholar  has  denied  himself  the  low  prizes 
of  every-day  encounter  that  he  can  lay  down  his 
life  for  his  country.  It  is  because  he  takes  no  part 
in  meaner  warfare  that  he  is  ready  for  the  noblest. 

*  January  19,  18G4. 


lecture  in.  95 

Such  thoughts  have  often  passed  through  my  mind, 
as  I  contemplated  the  crowds  of  my  fellow-citizens, 
who  seemed  to  delight,  at  this  time,  to  waste  all 
their  energies  in  the  idlest  frivolities,  the  maddest 
enterprises,  the  meanest  trickeries  of  public  life. 
And,  comparing  their  objects  with  those  of  my 
dear  University,  I  shaped  these  thoughts  into  the 
lines  which  follow  ;  which,  believe  me,  express  the 
very  spirit  of  the  students  of  Cambridge.  I  call 
them 

THE    WANDERERS. 

Where  hast  thou  wandered  ?     Over  the  plains, 
Gathering  flowers  all  bright  with  dew ; 

Round  the  porch  of  my  rustic  home, 

I  '11  twine  eacli  blossom  of  pink  and  blue. 

Where  hast  thou  wandered  ?     Over  the  hills, 

Gathering  berries,  black  and  red ; 
Wine  shall  sparkle  and  mirth  shall  ring, 

When  their  crimson  life-blood  at  eve  is  shed. 

Where  hast  thou  wandered  1  Over  the  sea, 
Gathering  pearls  which  mermaids  weep ; 

To-night  the  sheen  of  their  orbs  shall  blaze, 
In  my  lady's  ringlets  dark  and  deep. 

Where  hast  thou  wandered'?     Over  the  town, 

Gathering  heaps  of  wealth  untold; 
Sweeter  than  organ,  or  lute,  or  bar]), 

Are  the  tinkling  drops  of  hoarded  gold. 

Where  hast  thou  wandered  <     In  stately  halls, 

Gathering  titles,  and  power,  and  fame ; 


9o  ON  THE  CAM. 

Prouder  each  day  my  heart  shall  swell, 
As  nations  bow  to  my  mighty  name. 

When?  hast  thou  wandered  !     Over  the  field, 
Gathering  laurels  with  blood-stained  sword ; 

Soon  shall  I  die  ;  but  glory's  star 
Shines  forever  as  my  reward. 

Where  hast  thou  wandered  ?     In  volumes  old ; 

Gathering  wisdom,  line  on  line  : 
Flowers  and  fruit,  and  gems  and  gold, 

Honor  and  glory,  they  all  are  mine. 


IV. 


INCENTIVES    TO    STUDY,    AND   NON-STUDENTS. 

College  Examinations.  —  Pi:izes  of  Various  Kinds. —  COM- 
memoration.—  scholarships  and  fellowships.  —  the 
"Poll"  Degree. —  Pkofessobs'  Lectures. —  Shifts  to 
avoid  Study.  —  Generosity  between  Students  and 
Non-Students.  —  General  Discussion  of  the  Cambridge 
System. 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen*  :  — 

In  my  last  lecture  I  endeavored  to  illustrate  the 
methods  of. study  and  instruction  as  given  at  Cam- 
bridge, and  showed  that  the  basis  of  the  system  is 
competitive  examinations  of  the  most  rigorous  char- 
acter ;  and  that  the  preparation  for  these  is  left  to 
the  student  himself  to  make  in  his  own  way,  there 
being,  properly  speaking,  no  course  of  study  at  all; 
that  abundant  assistance  is  offered  by  college  lec- 
turers, who,  however,  attract  on  the  whole  little 
interest  ;  and  that  the  mass  of  the  instruction  is 
given  by  private  tutors,  exercising  as  far  as  possible 
a  personal  and  individual  supervision  over  the  line 
of  study  selected  by  each  student.  Lastlv,  I  have 
failed  Mcnairy  to  explain  the  real  state  of  the  case, 
it'  you  did  not  understand  that  all  these  arduous 
examinations  and  profound  studies  were  strictly  at 
the  option   of  each  student,  no  one  being  required 


98  ON   THE   CAM. 

to  enter  for  a  degree  "in  honors"  as  it  is  called, 
or  to  do  more  than  just  scrape  through  the  col- 
lege examinations. 

But  though  no  requirement  is  made  of  the  un- 
dergraduate to  enter  on  this  severe  course  of  study, 
abundant  incentives  are  offered  to  stimulate  the 
most  sluggish.  Nowhere  is  a  system  of  prizes  and 
rewards  more  generously  established,  more  fairly 
carried  out,  or  more  actively  competed  for,  than 
at  Cambridge.  They  may  be  divided  into  three 
classes,  —  those  for  proficiency  in  the  regular  and 
all  but  required  exercises  of  college,  those  for 
success  in  special  efforts,  which  are  entirely  op- 
tional, and  those  which  enroll  the  successful  candi- 
date as  one  of  a  privileged  class.  We  will  con- 
sider each  of  these  in  some  detail. 

At  nearly  all  the  colleges,  the  undergraduates 
are  required  every  year  to  pass  an  examination  in 
the  classical  and  mathematical  subjects  on  which 
lectures  have  been  delivered  during  the  past  year. 
The  members  of  each  year,  or  as  we  should  say 
each  class,  are  examined  by  themselves  ;  and  this 
is  one  of  the  few  cases,  where  there  is  anything 
like  our  class  system  adopted  in  England.  There 
are  added  generally  some  subjects  on  which  no 
lectures  have  been  given,  —  such  as  ancient  his- 
tory and  moral  philosophy,  particularly  as  given 
in  our  esteemed  friends  Whe well's  Elements  and 
Butler's  Analogy.  And  let  those  who  accuse  the 
English  collegiate  system  of  was  tins  too  much  time 


LECTURE    IV.  99 

on  ancient  literature  and  old-world  learning,  hear 
the  last  addition  made  by  Trinity  College  to  her 
subjects  for  examination.  Among  the  subjects  for 
the  second  year,  or  as  we  should  say  the  Sopho- 
mores, every  year  are  the  literature,  criticism,  and 
history  of  four  selected  plays  of  Shakespeare.  I 
will  venture  to  say  no  college  or  University  in  the 
world  is  ahead  of  Edward  III.'s  old  foundation 
in  this  incorporation  of  modern  literature  into  its 
subjects  for  examination. 

At  Trinity  College,  the  largest,  and  in  some 
respects  the  model,  these  examinations  are  held 
in  the  first  week  in  June,  for  which  reason,  I  sup- 
pose, they  are  called  the  May  examinations,  and 
generally  last  about  a  week.  The  scholarship  in- 
volved in  them  is  by  no  means  so  verbal  as  in  the 
great  final  trials,  and  everybody,  whatever  his  spe- 
cialtv,  has  a  chance  to  succeed.  According  to  the 
result  the  students  are  divided  into  nine  classes,  of 
ever-varying  proportions,  and  the  names  in  each 
class  printed  alphabetically.  Printed,  I  say ;  for 
lists  of  the  result  are  extensively  circulated  by  the 
undergraduates  among  their  friends.  The  last  class 
is  printed  emphatically  last  class,  and  not  ninth; 
that  their  estimation  by  the  college  authorities 
may  be  known.      But  even  here, — 

"  In  the  lowest  deep,  :i  lower  deep 
Still  opens." 

There  are  two  official  lists,  written  and  not 
printed,  one  framed   inside   the  great  college  hall, 


100  ON  THE   CAM. 

and  one  posted  outside;  and  on  these,  even  after 
the  last  class,  appear  the  names  of  those  stated  as 
"  not  worthy  to  be  classed."  About  these  there 
goes  round  the  word  "  posted,"  and  the  ma- 
lignant will  go  about  breathing  the  still  more 
dreadful  epithet  "  plucked,"  which  properly  be- 
longs only  to  those  failing  of  a  degree.  These 
unlucky  beings,  who  cannot  pass  the  very  slight 
minimum,  70  marks,  when  the  possible  maximum 
is  1800,  are  generally  requested  to  submit  to 
another  examination,  and  if  they  still  continue  in 
inability  to  pass  this,  are  reminded  that  there  are 
other  colleges  in  Cambridge  where  the  air  is  less 
close  and  constraining,  and  where  they  would  be 
joyfully  received  as  inmates. 

But,  oh,  what  glories  await  the  first  class  men. 
For  them  are  indeed  golden  joys,  and  curiously  to 
state,  the  fewer  the  merrier.  A  fixed  sum  of 
money  is  appropriated  from  the  College  funds,  to 
be  divided  equally  among  those  who  are  placed  in 
the  first  class  in  each  year,  and  expended  in  books, 
which  are  stamped  with  the  College  arms.  As 
the  gross  sum  is  the  same,  a  large  first  class  gives 
small  prizes  and  vice  versa.  The  books  are  really 
valuable,  and  the  undergraduate  is  at  liberty  to 
make  them  as  much  more  so  as  he  likes,  out  of  his 
own  funds  !  The  size  of  the  first  class  at  Trinity 
is  for  Freshmen  between  twenty  and  thirty,  for 
second  year  men  about  two  thirds  as  large,  for  the 
thud  year  between  ten  and  fifteen.    Almost  every- 


LECTURE   IV.  101 

body  of  real  merit  in  the  college  tries  to  be  in  the 
first  class  the  first  year,  but  after  that  their  atten- 
tion is  concentrated  on  the  examination  for  the 
degree,  and  the  interest  in  college  examinations 
falls  off'. 

Throughout  Cambridge  great  attention  is  paid 
to  the  study  of  the  New  Testament  in  the  original 
Greek.  It  is  incorporated,  I  believe,  into  all  col- 
lege examinations,  and  not  only  does  proficiency 
therein  advance  one  in  the  general  scale,  but  spe- 
cial prizes  and  very  valuable  ones  are  awarded  for 
it.  It  is  considered  a  particularly  honorable  and 
desirable  specialty  to  excel  in  this  study  of  the 
Greek  Testament,  even,  as  in  some  cases,  to  the 
exclusion  of  all  other  branches  of  learning. 

At  several  of  the  colleges,  Trinity  and  St. 
John's  especially,  every  undergraduate  is  required 
at  a  certain  part  of  his  course,  to  write  an  English 
and  a  Latin  Essay  or  Declamation.  This  may  be, 
and  by  the  majority  is  made  as  short  and  perfunc- 
tory as  possible,  but  those  who  do  take  pains  gen- 
erally have  the  privilege  —  to  an  Englishman  the 
condemnation  —  of  reciting  their  productions,  and 
after  the  recitation  prizes  of  very  great  value  are 
awarded  to  the  best  two  or  three. 

These  I  hdieve  are  about  all  the  prizes  which 
the  colleges  give  for  excellence  in  the  regular  ex- 
ercises. Next  we  have  a  great  variety  of  special 
opportunities  and  voluntary  competition.  Of  these 
the  number   is   immense  ;  not  only  does  each  col- 


102  ON   THE   CAM. 

lege  offer  many  rewards  for  essays  and  poems  in 
English,  Latin  or  Greek,  but  the  University  offers 
to  all  its  members  several  very  valuable  medals, 
and  other  prizes  for  Greek,  Latin  and  English 
verse,  Latin  essays,  and  also  for  English  prose 
composition.  But  all  the  University  prizes  for 
English  prose,  which  are  numerous  and  very  val- 
uable, are  reserved  for  Bachelors  of  Arts,  it  being 
generally  considered  at  Cambridge,  that  an  under- 
graduate has  neither  time  nor  maturity  to  com- 
pose a  well-reasoned  English  prose  essay ;  nor  are 
facts  wanting  to  sustain  this  judgment.  There 
are  four  other  University  prizes, — two,  the  chan- 
cellor's gold  medals  for  those  Bachelors  of  Arts  in 
each  year  who  best  pass  a  special  examination  in 
classics,  —  and  two,  the  Smith's  prizes  of  like  con- 
ditions for  mathematics.  But  about  the  chancel- 
lor's medals  is  a  singular  restriction  ;  so  great 
was  the  preference  given  to  mathematics,  that  no 
one  was  or  is  allowed  to  compete  for  the  chancel- 
lor's classical  medal,  without  previously  having 
taken  a  certain  rank  in  the  list  of  mathematical 
honors,  —  which  is  like  refusing  to  let  a  man  stand 
for  Congress  till  he  has  taken  a  ship  round  Cape 
Horn.* 

The  University  appoints  a  day  in  every  year 
when  its  prizes  shall  be  distributed,  and  the  suc- 
cessful poems  in  English,  Latin  and  Greek  recited. 

*  A  proposition  to  do  away  with  this  restriction  was  recently 
agitated,  and  has  possibly  been  adopted. 


LECTURE   IV.  103 

At  Oxford,  this  is  the  most  brilliant  occasion  of  the 
year.  It  is  called  the  Commemoration,  and  is 
very  well  described  in  "  Tom  Brown  at  Oxford," 
and  Miss  Yonge's  "  Daisy  Chain."  But  at  Cam- 
bridge it  is  not  made  much  of.  It  is  generally 
appointed  in  the  dead  time  of  year,  when  the  un- 
dergraduates are  all  away,  so  that  even  the  prize- 
bearers  often  have  their  poems  recited  by  proxy. 
Not  that  that  makes  much  difference,  for  few  and 
far  between  are  the  Englishmen  who  can  read 
or  recite  poetry  well.  Occasionally,  when  some 
great  magnate  is  at  Cambridge,  as  the  Prince  of 
Wales,  or  when  a  new  chancellor  is  inaugurated, 
other  exercises  are  added,  and  the  day  is  made 
brilliant  and  interesting.  The  day  is  called,  as 
here,  Commencement. 

The  ceremony  of  giving  out  prizes  at  a  col- 
lege  —  I  speak  of  Trinity  —  is  amusing.  It  is 
called  Commemoration,  and  is  in  fact  a  solemn 
commemoration  of  all  the  benefactors  to  the  Col- 
lege. A  special  service  is  held  in  the  chapel, 
where  the  names  of  all  the  benefactors,  from  Ed- 
ward JII.  down,  are  read  at  length,  a  sermon  is 
preached,  and  a  special  anthem  sung.  The  meet- 
ing is  then  adjourned  to  the  hall,  where  the  Mas- 
ter, dignitaries,  and  ladies  take  their  seats  at  the 
upper  end,  and  the  few  undergraduates  present, — 
for  nobody  is  required  to  go,  and  the  day  itself  is 
the  last  of  term,  —  assemble  below.  Just  in  the 
place   where  there   is  most   draught,  between   two 


104  ON    THE   CAM. 

windows  one  way  and  two  doors  the  other,  is  placed 
a  species  of  pulpit,  not  unlike  the  desk  I  now  stand 
at,  on  four  high  steps.  Concerning  this  pulpit  it  is 
told,  that,  before  it  came  into  the  possession  of  the 
college,  a  bet  was  made  that  you  could  n't  ask  at 
a  certain  variety-store  in  Cambridge  for  anything 
they  had  n't  got.  A  second-hand  pulpit  was  asked 
for  over  the  counter,  and  this  one  produced  im- 
mediately from  the  store-room.  To  this  rostra 
ascend  successively  the  winners  of  the  first  prizes 
for  the  Latin  and  English  essays  or  declamations, 
who,  as  it  were  to  pay  for  their  success,  have  to 
write  and  speak  another  of  the  same  sort  on  this 
day.  These  performances  are  almost  the  only  ones 
in  Cambridge  where  the  student  can  select  his  own 
subject,  and  it  is  an  old  tradition,  zealously  adhered 
to,  that  the  speaker  may  say  just  what  he  pleases, 
no  matter  how  offensive  to  authority  it  is  likely  to 
be.  It  was  from  this  stand,  about  a  year  ago, 
that  I  nearly  caught  my  death  of  cold,  endeavoring 
to  give  John  Bull  an  idea  of  Mr.  Webster.  The 
speeches  ended,  the  various  inferior  officials  pro- 
ceed to  distribute  the  prizes,  the  old  chapel  clerk 
—  a  college-servant  —  calling  out  the  names  of  the 
prize-bearers.  This  hoary  villain  —  who  is  the 
image  of  Retzsch's  Mephistophiles,  and  always  so 
called  —  actually  claims  seventy-five  cents  from 
every  student  who  gets  a  prize,  under  the  pre- 
tence that  he  brings  it  to  your  room,  which  half 
the  time  you  do  yourself.     In  long  order  march 


LECTURE   IV.  105 

up  the  declaimers,  the  Latin  verse-writers,  the 
English  essayist,  and  the  Greek  Testament  sages. 
To  each,  the  senior  dean  or  the  head-lecturer  makes 
some  appropriate  remarks,  except  when  he  has 
taken  too  hasty  a  look  at  the  list,  and  assures  the 
first  Greek  Testament  prize-man,  a  devoted  son  of 
Mother  Church,  that  he  did  not  hesitate  to  give 
him  the  prize,  notwithstanding  the  sarcastic  and 
radical  tone  of  his  declamation.  Last  of  all,  the 
first  class  men  in  each  year  are  summoned,  and  are 
thanked  for  their  faithful  performance  of  the  regu- 
lar, exercises  of  the  college.  Now  attend.  The 
mighty  head  of  the  college,  the  great  and  awful 
William  Whewell,  D.  D.,  "  Qui  nullum  fere  scri- 
bendi  genus  non  tetigit,  nullum  quod  tetigit,  non 
ornavit,"  delivers  himself  of  a  few  remarks,  —  few, 
but  weighty.  I  have  once  heard  them  myself;  I 
have  had  them  reported  to  me  three  times,  and 
their  uniform  tenor  is  this:  "That  your  success 
in  these  examinations  will  always  be  interpreted 
in  your  favor  by  your  instructors,  and  that  the 
present  period  is  the  most  important  of  your  col- 
lege course,"  the  last  remark  being  successively 
made  to  members  of  the  third,  second,  and  first 
years. 

So  much  for  prizes,  properly  so  called,  —  the 
whole  amount  distributed  in  them  throughout  the 
I'niversity  and  in  the  colleges  is  over  ,£2,000 
a  year!  But  the  most  important  rewards  and 
incentives  for  students  vet  remain  to  be  noticed. 


106  ON  THE   CAM. 

The  colleges  are  corporations.  The  income  of 
the  wealth  which  has  been  bestowed  on  them  at 
various  times  and  accumulated  during  centuries,  is 
held  by  fellows,  the  number  of  which  varies  from 
sixty  at  the  largest  colleges,  to  five  at  the  small- 
est. These  corporations  are  self-continued, — each 
fellowship,  as  it  falls  vacant,  being  filled  by  elec- 
tion at  the  hands  of  the  other  fellows,  or  a  portion 
of  them.  The  emoluments  and  rights  of  fellows 
vary  at  different  colleges ;  but,  as  a  general  rule, 
each  fellow  is  entitled  to  a  very  superior  set  of 
rooms  in  college,  to  his  meals  at  the  high  table, 
to  a  certain  sum  every  week  he  resides  at  Cam- 
bridge, and  to  his  equal  share  of  the  net  income 
of  the  college,  after  all  expenses  are  paid.  The 
income  of  the  fellows  is  thus  several  hundred 
pounds  a  year,  —  more  at  some  colleges,  less  at 
others ;  but,  in  all,  a  very  generous  provision  for 
a  single  man,  just  out  of  college  himself.  The  fel- 
lows have  their  share  in  the  college  government, 
though  the  statutes  generally  delegate  this  to  the 
oldest  eight  or  ten  among  them.  From  them  are 
appointed,  in  most  cases,  the  tutors,  lecturers,  and 
other  instructors  ;  and  also  the  officers  of  discipline, 
but  not  the  chaplains  or  librarian.  The  position 
of  a  fellow  is  eminently  honorable  and  desirable. 
There  are  two  drawbacks:  removed  very  recently 
in  some  colleges,  and  strongly  relucted  against  in 
others.  First,  a  fellow  must,  after  a  certain  length 
of  tenure,  become  a  priest  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 


LECTURE  IV.  107 

land.  Secondly,  —  a  still  more  lively  reminder  of 
monastic  times,  —  he  must  be  content  to  live  in 
single  blessedness. 

A  portion  of  the  income  of  the  colleges  is  re- 
served for  scholarships.  Of  these,  Trinity  College 
has  seventy-two,  and  other  colleges  different  num- 
bers ;  some  of  the  smaller  only  six  or  eight.  They 
are  offered  for  competition  among  the  undergradu- 
ates, according  to  the  result  of  a  very  liberal  exam- 
ination, so  contrived  as  to  give  every  scope  for  gen- 
eral ability.  The  competition  is  open  to  members 
of  the  second  and  third  years  together  ;  the  papers 
being  designedly  rather  hard  for  the  second  year, 
and  rather  easy  for  the  third.  So  that  from  the 
second  year,  the  best  are  chosen,  and,  a  year  after, 
their  somewhat  inferior  classmates,  preference  be- 
ing mven  to  those  who  have  not  another  chance. 
A  scholar  has  generally  a  set  of  rooms,  rent  free, 
his  meals  under  certain  conditions,  and  a  share  of 
the  college  fund.  He  is  like  the  fellows  on  the 
foundation,  a  real  member  of  the  college,  —  the 
mass  of  the  undergraduates  being  merely  outsiders 
residing  there.  The  scholarships  are  tenable  till 
three  years  after  graduation.  A  similar  examina- 
tion, a  good  deal  harder,  is  held  for  the  fellowships, 
open  to  those  who  are  of  one,  two,  or  three  years 
standing  after  graduation.  In  some  colleges  no 
one  can  he  superannuated  as  a  candidate. 

Now  to  these  two  positions,  scholars  and  fellows, 
no  idea  of  a   beneficiary,  or  of  degradation,  is  at- 


108  ON  THE   CAM. 

tached.  They  are  singularly  honorable  ;  they  at- 
tract immense  competition  ;  those  who  turn  up 
their  noses  at  a  first  class  in  a  college  examination, 
or  a  silver  cup  for  an  English  essay,  rush  to  the 
scholarship  trial  without  the  ghost  of  a  chance. 
And  the  reason  is  that  all  can  get  them.  They 
are  not  a  premium  on  poverty,  —  no  man  is  passed 
over  because  he  does  not  need  assistance.  It  is 
held,  and  in  my  opinion  rightly,  that  a  superior 
scholar  deserves  a  share  in  the  college  funds, 
whether  he  needs  it  or  not.  A  student  who  is 
poor  in  intellect  is  no  better  because  he  is  also  poor 
in  purse.  Some  of  the  richest  men  of  England 
have  sons  who  hold  scholarships  at  college,  and 
it  is  hailed  as  a  good  omen  that  the  sons  of  the 
wealthy  feel  a  pride  at  gaining  something  tangi- 
ble by  their  own  exertions. 

Thus  at  Cambridge  is  the  instinct  or  ability  for 
study  fostered  and  excited  into  active  exertion  by 
general  pri7.es,  by  special  rewards,  and  finally  by 
incorporation  into  the  very  life  of  the  colleges,  and 
a  more  or  less  liberal  pecuniary  support ;  and  all 
of  these  prizes  have  a  most  honorable  character. 
For  those  whose  circumstances  are  really  low, 
there  are  very  ample  beneficiary  funds  at  all  the 
colleges.  The  holders  of  these  are  called  sizars, 
from  an  old  barbarous  Latin  word  signifying  por- 
tion. It  will  be  remembered  that  poor  Goldsmith 
was  a  sizar  at  Dublin  University.  In  his  time, 
and  long  after,  there  were  several  very  degrading 


LECTURE  IV.  109 

necessities  of  a  servile  character  imposed  on  these 
beneficiaries.  All  these  are  done  away  with,  but 
the  sizars  are  still  restricted  to  inferior  rooms,  and 
cannot  avail  themselves  of  college  luxuries  as  fully 
as  other  students.  They  are  also  required  to  earn 
their  share  of  the  college  fund  by  a  certain  amount 
of  scholarship.  It  is  perfectly  true  that  the  sizars, 
or  as  they  are  called  at  Oxford,  servitors,  are  not 
on  an  equality  of  social  relations  with  the  others  ; 
I  do  not  think,  however,  this  arises  from  any  su- 
perciliousness on  the  part  of  the  more  wealthy,  but 
from  what  may  be  called  the  agrarianism  of  the 
poor,  particularly  the  poor  student,  that  fancies  a 
slight  when  none  is  intended.  Some  of  the  most 
distinguished  Cambridge  scholars  and  scientific 
men  have  been  sizars. 

The  University  has  also  a  few  very  valua- 
ble scholarships,  mostly  for  classical  proficiency, 
awarded  at  an  annual  examination,  open  every 
year  to  all  undergraduates  in  the  first  three  years. 
The  University  Scholarship  is  the  most  honorable 
distinction  next  to  the  head  of  the  Tripos. 

So  far  for  the  students  at  Cambridge,  for  their 
studies,  their  instructors,  their  rewards.  The  re- 
mainder of  the  lecture  belongs  to  those  young  men 
at  Cambridge  who  are  sent  there  to  live,  as  being 
one  of  the  best  places  where  a  young  man  ran 
learn  to  live,  —  those  who  do  not  intend  to  study, 
and  whom  neither  parents  nor  instructors  expect 
to  study.     The  system  pursued  with  them  is  to  an 


110  ON   THE   CAM. 

American  one  of  the  most  curious  incidents  of  an 
English  University.  It  is  to  require  nothing  of 
them.  I  believe  seriously  a  young  man  can  reside 
at  Cambridge  ten  years,  if  he  will,  without  passing 
a  single  examination,  or  giving  any  sign  of  his  ex- 
istence as  far  as  books,  instructors,  science,  or  lit- 
erature is  concerned.  At  the  large  colleges,  where 
much  attention  is  paid  to  study,  there  is  some  ex- 
amination required  for  admission,  and  at  various 
stages  in  the  undergraduate  career.  These  are 
easier  to  pass  than  not,  as  there  are  always  plenty 
of  questions  that  the  stupidest  and  most  wilful 
must  answer  in  spite  of  himself.  The  University, 
again,  will  not  give  him  a  degree  without  examina- 
tion. But  how  if  he  does  not  want  a  degree? 
How  if  he  is  content  to  live  a  member  of  some 
college  three,  five,  eight  years,  and  never  become 
a  Bachelor  of  Arts  at  all  ?  Yet  this  is  perfectly 
possible,  and  constantly  done. 

Let  us  suppose,  however,  one  grade  above  this 
depth  of  illiteracy.  A  scion  of  aristocracy  is  gra- 
ciously pleased  to  honor  Cambridge  with  his  resi- 
dence for  a  few  years  in  order  to  obtain  this  de- 
gree. Not  in  honors,  mind,  like  the  classic  or 
mathematician.  His  aim  is  the  ordinary,  the 
"poll"  degree,  a  name  from  the  Greek  ol  7ro\\oi, 
the  multitude.  In  order  to  obtain  this,  he  must 
pass  through  two  ordeals.  The  first  occurs  in  the 
second  year.  It  is  called  by  a  very  few  and  stiff 
authorities,   and   on   official   papers,   the    previous 


LECTURE   IV.  Ill 

examination,  but  in  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a 
hundred  the  Little-Go.  It  is  the  most  crowded 
examination  in  Cambridge,  everybody  who  is  in 
his  second  year  being  required  to  pass  it  before 
lie  can  get  any  sort  of  a  degree.  Those  who  pro- 
pose to  compete  for  honors  have  a  somewhat  harder 
Little-Go  than  the  average.  What,  then,  is  the 
minimum  required  of  every  one,  not  to  pass  which 
is  a  bar  on  all  further  University  progress  ?  He 
is  examined  in  one  Greek  author,  one  Latin  au- 
thor, and  one  of  the  gospels  in  the  original  Greek. 
The  particular  gospel  and  authors  are  appointed  a 
year  in  advance.  Besides  this,  he  must  be  pre- 
pared on  the  first  three  books  of  Euclid,  on  easy 
Algebra,  on  Arithmetic,  and  on  Paley's  Evidences 
of  Christianity.  This  last  is  the  terrible  stumbling- 
block.  In  order  to  pass,  the  candidate  has  to  do 
pretty  well  on  all  the  papers.  If  he  do  very  badly 
on  one,  or  rather  badly  on  two,  he  is  plucked,  and 
must  wait  for  the  next  trial.  For  the  Little-Go 
and  the  ordinary  degree  can  be  tried  again  and 
again.  I  know  a  student,  I  believe  still  a  mem- 
ber of  the  University,  who  has  tried  six  times  to 
pass  this  examination,  and  every  year,  as  he  comes 
out  of  the  last  paper,  he  begins  his  studies  for  it 
over  again,  without  waiting  to  know  if  he  has 
passed  or  not,  so  sure  is  he  of  the  fatal  result. 
Those  who  intend  to  compete  for  honors  have  a 
little  more  mathematics  added  to  the  Little-Go. 
Suppose   this   examination    successfully    past.      At 


112  ON   THE   CAM. 

the  end  of  the  third  year  comes  the  ordinary- 
degree  examination.  This  is  on  the  same  prin- 
ciple as  the  Little-Go.  There  is  a  Greek  and  a 
Latin  author,  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  in  Greek, 
the  History  of  the  Reformation,  and  the  Mathe- 
matical Theory  of  Mechanics  and  Hydrostatics. 
The  successful  competitors  for  this  are  arranged 
in  four  classes,  and  in  each  class  alphabetically. 
This  is  the  final  examination,  in  virtue  of  which 
the  greater  number  of  students  take  their  degree. 
It  can  be  postponed  to  any  time,  and  any  candi- 
date who  actually  has  entered  it  and  failed  can  try 
twice  more,  at  two  additional  examinations,  com- 
monly called  the  uj)ost  mortem.'''' 

Of  late,  one  addition  has  been  made  of  the  re- 
quirements to  the  ordinary  degree.  It  is  attend- 
ance on  professors'  lectures. 

You  will  have  wrondered  that  I  have  as  yet 
said  nothing  of  the  professors.  There  is  a  large 
body  of  very  learned  men  who  hold  the  profes- 
sorships at  Cambridge,  in  a  great  variety  of  de- 
partments. They  have  been  founded  at  various 
times  from  1503  downwards.  They  are  called  by 
the  names  of  their  founders,  like  ours,  but  in  rather 
a  different  form.  The  five  professorships  founded 
by  King  Henry  are  the  Regius  professorships,  Mr. 
Lucas's  is  the  Lucasian,  Mr.  Lowndes's  the  Lown- 
dean,  and  so  on  ;  the  only  ones  not  habitually  al- 
tered being  the  Ladv  Margaret,  —  for  an  En<rlish- 
man  would  n't  for  the  world  give  up  a  Lord  or 


LECTURE   IV.  113 

Lady  before  a  name,  —  and  a  few  stubborn  names, 
like  Downing,  Knightbridge,  etc.  The  professor- 
ships are  University  offices,  —  but  some  have  a  con- 
nection with  individual  collecres.  Thus  the  two 
Downing  professors  are  ipso  facto  part  of  Downing 
College.  The  Regius  professor  of  Greek  is  a  Fel- 
low of  Trinity,  and  so  a  few  others.  These  profes- 
sors have  always  delivered  lectures  in  their  re- 
spective departments  to  voluntary  classes,  —  but 
the  audience  depended  entirelv  on  the  personal 
attractions  of  the  lecturer ;  and  except  with  the 
attendance  of  prospective  clergymen  and  physicians 
on  the  theological  and  medical  lectures,  and  of  a 
few  ardent  classical  students  on  the  Greek  lectures, 
the  scanty  salaries  of  the  professors,  —  for  the  Uni- 
versity cannot  afford  to  pay  its  officers  well,  —  was 
but  poorly  eked  out  by  lecture  fees.  Accordingly 
it  was  agreed,  that  in  order  to  get  a  little  more 
study  out  of  the  lazy,  all  candidates  for  the  ordinary 
degree  must  attend  a  course  of  professors'  lectures, 
and  bring  a  certificate  from  him  of  such  attend- 
ance. Of  course  he  will  not  grant  such  certificate 
without  a  little  examination  on  the  matter  of  his 
lectures.  This  system  has  certainly  done  the  pro- 
fessors' pockets  good,  but  not  their  reputation  in 
the  University,  for  by  making  attendance  on  their 
lectures  a  distinguishing  mark  of  the  ttoWoi,  it  has 
sunk  them  still  lower  in  the  estimation  of  fine 
scholars  ! 

This,  then,  is  all  asked  of  the  ordinary  student ; 


114  ON   THE   CAM. 

and  how  long  preparation  does  it  require  to  pass 
this  ?  I  suppose  that  two  months'  faithful  study  on 
the  Little-Go,  and  three  on  the  final  examination, 
Avith  close  attention  to  the  professors'  lectures, 
would  easily  do  the  work.  But  these  gay  young 
men  have  such  a  rooted  aversion  to  study,  that 
they  will  not  do  even  this.  No,  —  they  will  put 
off  the  Little-Go  preparation  till  one  month  hefore, 
and  the  degree  till  two,  and  then  such  working, — 
such  sweat  and  shiver,  such  prayers  and  curses  ! 
If  it  were  not  for  the  real  misery  involved,  it 
would  be  the  most  ludicrous  sight  in  the  world, 
the  shifts  and  dodges  that  are  tried  to  pass  these 
examinations  without  resorting  to  the  sine  qua  non, 
the  dreaded  hard  work.  One  student  has  faith  in 
a  particular  tutor.  "Big  Smith"  —  such  is  the 
respectful  name  by  which  one  of  the  most  suc- 
cessful teachers  is  habitually  spoken  of —  has  got 
more  men  through  in  the  last  ten  years  than  any- 
body else.  Accordingly,  if  you  go  to  Big  Smith, 
enough,  —  the  work  is  done.  Day  after  day,  hour 
after  hour,  some  fast  young  man  at  Magdalen  will 
tramp  down  to  Big  Smith,  —  the  entire  length  of 
the  town,  —  not  having  prepared  any  work,  not 
intending  to  hear  or  retain  any  instruction,  but 
merely  listening  in  blank  faith  to  what  his  tutor 
says,  thinking  that  now  he  may  go  off  and  play, 
for  he  has  been  to  Big  Smith,  and  that  must  get 
him  through.  Another  believes  getting  up  early 
is  sure  to  accomplish  the  task,  —  so  morning  after 


LECTURE    IV.  115 

morning  he  gives  his  servants  enormous  fees  to 
pull  him  out  of  bed  at  seven  o'clock.  He  may 
have  been  up  till  three  or  four  last  night,  —  he 
may  go  riding  or  shooting,  or  anything,  —  but  still, 
Jones  got  through  last  year  by  getting  up  early, 
and  so  he  is  sure  to.  Then,  when  they  do  con- 
sent to  study  a  little,  instead  of  taking  the  ac- 
tual books  and  finding  out  what  they  contain,  they 
try  to  cheat  the  author  out  of  his  meaning  by  cards, 
analyses,  abstracts,  translations,  and  dodges  innu- 
merable ;  the  use  of  which  takes  longer  to  learn 
than  it  would  to  get  up  the  original  properly.  And 
thus  in  the  same  way  that  the  stern,  conscientious 
study  of  the  honor  men  brings  out  a  solidity  and  a 
brilliancy  that  the  world  never  saw  surpassed,  so 
this  shilly-shally,  inefficient  study  of  the  poll  men 
is  apt  to  engender  the  most  absurd  blunders.  The 
number  of  those  related  of  the  Little-Go  and  poll 
degree  is  immense,  and  daily  increasing.  Some 
of  the  old  stories,  however,  may  not  be  familiar  to 
you. 

Paley's  definition  of  virtue  was  given,  —  "  Man 
acts  more  from  habit  than  reflection."  Another 
youth,  who  had  read  the  Evidences  of  Christianity 
for  his  Little-Go,  and  the  Natural  Theology  for  an- 
other examination,  gave  up  all  attempts,  after  bring- 
ing out,  as  an  answer  to  Hume's  theory  of  miracles, 
this  condition,  minus  a  consequence  :  "  If  twelve 
men,  of  known  probity,  find  a  watch."  ( )n  an- 
other occasion,  a  candidate   for  his  degree   is  said 


116  ON   THE   CAM. 

to  have  stated  the  substance  of  St.  Paul's  sermon 
at  Athens  to  be,  "  Crying  out  for  the  space  of  two 
hours,  Great  is  Diana  of  the  Ephesians."  His 
neighbor  traced  a  connection  between  the  Old 
and  New  Testaments  in  the  circumstance  that 
Peter  with  his  sword  cut  off  the  ear  of  the  pro- 
phet Malachi. 

It  would,  however,  be  unjust  to  these  men  to 
omit  that  many  of  the  ordinary  degree  men  be- 
gin at  the  right  time,  work  hard,  and  pass  a  much 
better  examination  than  those  who,  on  the  strength 
of  a  little  knowledge  picked  up  at  school,  live  a 
lazy  life  for  three  years,  and  just  scrape  through 
at  the  bottom  of  the  list  of  honors. 

And  now,  what  do  these  men  do  the  rest  of 
their  time  ?  They  need  not  study  ;  are  they  al- 
lowed to  play  ?  Yes  ;  to  the  full  extent.  They 
are  not  allowed  to  pass  a  night  away  from  Cam- 
bridge without  special  permission  ;  and  most  effi- 
cient measures  are  taken  to  prevent  the  possible 
invasion  of  this  law.  But  while  in  Cambridge, 
they  can  have  every  luxury  and  every  indulgence 
of  the  best  kind.  Their  literary  associates,  stu- 
dents, instructors,  authorities,  do  not  pronounce 
them  reprobates  and  profligates  because  they  live 
the  life  that  every  young  man  naturally  will  lead 
who  has  no  capacity  nor  taste  for  work.  And  so 
they  do  not  force  them  into  a  mode  of  life  which 
they  never  could  appreciate  and  seldom  could  en- 
dure.    They  are  not  pronounced  a  public  scandal 


LECTURE  IV.  117 

for  having  wine  freely  in  their  rooms.  On  the 
contrary ;  a  student's  initiatory  experience  is  very 
apt  to  be  as  folloAvs :  —  His  father  brings  him,  on 
entering  college,  to  the  tutor ;  this  worthy,  who 
has  no  time  to  waste  on  Freshmen,  hands  him 
over  to  a  fellow-student,  "  to  assist  him,"  as  he 
says,  "  in  making  his  purchases "  ;  and  as  they 
are  going  out,  the  tutor  whispers  in  the  parent's 
ear,  "  A  very  steady,  religious  young  man  ;  you 
may  trust  your  son's  expenditure  to  him  implicit- 
ly." They  cross  the  street,  to  a  glass  and  crock- 
ery shop,  immediately  in  front  of  the  gate  ;  the 
steady  religious  friend  turns  and  says  :  "  We  '11 
go  in  here  first.  You  'd  better  get  your  decanters 
and  wine-glasses,  etc.,  at  once  ;  although  I  suppose 
you  've  hardly  got  your  wine  down  yet"  ;  and  so 
on.  If  the  student  is  disposed  to  conviviality,  all 
these  same  studious  friends  will  crack  their  joke 
and  take  their  glass  at  his  dinners  or  suppers, 
laugh  till  their  sides  ache  at  his  theatricals,  gaze 
"  with  parting  lips  and  straining  eyes  "  at  his 
cricket  matches  ;  and  not,  as  was  once  done  at  a 
Yankee  college,  confiscate  his  boat,  under  the 
statute  which  forbade  keeping  a  horse,  dog,  or 
other  domestic  animal.  And  this  is,  in  a  great 
measure,  because  he  is  not  a  drag  and  a  dead- 
weight on  their  studies  ;  he  is  not  a  bird  of  ill- 
omen  at  their  lessons,  constantly  lowering  their 
standard  of  scholarship  without  raising  his  own  ; 
they  are   not    hampered    by  him  as  an  unwilling 


118  ON   THE   CAM. 

coadjutor,  but  treat  him  as  a  man,  a  gentleman, 
and  a  friend  ;  glad  of  his  company  on  Parnassus, 
if  he  desires  to  worship  Apollo ;  but  not  forcing 
him  up  that  ascent,  when  his  heart  is  with  the 
Bacchanals  on  Cithaeron. 

And,  on  the  other  hand,  the  manner  in  which 
the  scholars  are  treated  by  those  who  have  no  taste 
for  study  is  equally  generous  and  honorable.  They 
do  not  stigmatize  them  by  the  exquisitely  refined 
and  classical  names  of  digs  or  prigs ;  they  do  not 
take  every  opportunity  to  deride  and  condemn 
literary  competition  ;  they  do  not,  finally,  descend 
to  that  last  and  most  contemptible  pitch  of  work- 
ing up  their  own  little,  crude,  uncultivated  talent 
to  a  sort  of  tinsel  brilliancy  in  the  effort  to  prove, 
by  false  argument  and  false  rhetoric,  in  debating 
societies,  in  speeches,  in  college  magazines,  that  it 
is  beneath  a  man  of  refined  tastes  and  lofty  motives 
to  show  attention  and  reverence  to  the  instructors 
of  his  University,  and  to  pursue  those  studies  which 
the  world  has  for  ages  agreed  to  admit  as  profit- 
able, as  improving,  as  enchanting.  On  the  con- 
trary, they  canvass  his  prospects  in  college  and 
University  honors  with  as  much  eagerness  and  even 
more  undiscriminating  heartiness  than  their  own 
games  and  races.  They  raise  a  glad  hurrah  in  the 
gallery  when  he  takes  his  degree,  and  they  hail  it 
as  an  honor  received,  not  a  concession  gained  over 
strictness,  if  they  can  secure  his  presence  at  their 
meetings. 


LECTURE   IV.  119 

It  is  this  spirit,  fellow-citizens,  which  I  wish  to 
see  introduced  at  our  colleges.  Heaven  forbid  that 
I  should  be  unjust  or  ungrateful  to  dear  Harvard. 
Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  speak  harshly  or  dis- 
paragingly of  those  associates  I  loved  and  honored, 
or  detract  from  that  reputation  for  good  feeling  and 
generosity  so  nobly  earned  by  the  class  to  which  I 
was  proud  to  belong ;  there  have  been  too  many 
brought  back  in  glory  to  the  sepulchres  of  their 
fathers,  too  many,  perchance,  forgotten  on  South- 
ern fields,  for  me  to  visit  sternly  the  faults  of  my 
brethren,  or  draw  odious  comparisons  between  the 
countries.  But  I  appeal  to  my  younger  friends 
here  to-night ;  I  appeal  to  all  who  have  wandered 
in  our  classic  groves  ;  —  Is  there  among  us  this  no- 
ble generosity  of  feeling,  so  universal  in  England, 
which  trusts  each  college-associate  to  choose  that 
course  which  is  to  himself  most  useful  and  most 
honorable?  How  often  have  I  seen  the  timid 
scholar  driven  to  conceal  or  deny  his  labors  by  the 
supercilious  verdict  that  condemned  as  unmanly 
and  sycophantic  all  faithful  performance  of  college 
lessons  because  they  were  such.  How  often  has 
an  ardent,  honest  love  for  the  treasures  of  ancient 
learning  or  science  been  .sneered  and  hooted  down 
by  dilettante  geniuses,  who,  forsooth,  must  select  a 
course  of  literature  for  themselves,  and  fill  their 
rooms  with  books  they  never  read.  And  how  often 
have  I  seen  the  very  name  of  duty  and  religion 
made  hateful  bv  the  bigotry  of  its  professors,  who, 


120  ON  THE   CAM. 

in  their  loud  condemnation  of  the  victims  of  temp- 
tations to  which  they  never  were  exposed,  and  dif- 
ficulties tenfold  greater  than  their  own,  force  mer- 
riment into  an  accursed  and  unnatural  concubinage 
with  vice,  by  expelling  it  from  its  legitimate  part- 
ner, innocence. 

In  England  the  division  into  sets  and  cliques  is 
much  sharper  among  young  men  than  here,  —  but 
the  jealousy  and  ill-feeling  far  less.  Every  man  is 
honored,  pitied,  or  despised  according  to  the  char- 
acter of  his  success  or  failure  in  his  chosen  occupa- 
tion. The  oarsman  is  not  the  scholar,  the  man  of 
pleasure  is  not  the  mathematician,  but  each  of  the 
four  and  a  hundred  other  trades  honors  the  others 
as  fellow-men,  as  fellow-students,  as  fellow-Chris- 
tians. From  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  there  is  a 
hearty  recognition  of  the  sacred  truth,  "that  we  are 
many  members  in  one  body,  and  all  members  have 
not  the  same  office.  The  eye  cannot  say  to  the 
hand,  I  have  no  need  of  thee,  neither  the  head  to 
the  feet,  I  have  no  need  of  you."  For  my  own 
thoughts  of  Cambridge,  I  value  my  successes,  I 
regret  my  failures  in  the  competitions  of  scholar- 
ship. I  remember  with  never-dying  affection  the 
days  and  nights  passed  with  the  associates  of  study. 
I  wear  every  day  the  gay  badge  of  our  ancient 
boat-club.  But  I  never  let  myself  be  separated 
from  another  jewel,  that  recalls  to  me  the  dear 
friend  Deatli  will  never  show  to  me  again,  —  that 
perfectly  sweet  and  unselfish  soul,  endeared  to  me 


LECTURE   IV.  121 

by  a  hundred  hours  of  enjoyment,  whose  generosity 
excused  all  his  failings,  and  whose  countless  frail- 
ties and  errors  are  now  reposing  in  trembling  hope, 
together  with  his  perfect  love  to  God  and  man. 

This,  then,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  is  the  Cam- 
bridge system.  For  those  who  will  study,  the 
highest  inducements,  for  those  who  do  not  care  to, 
a  certain  slight  requirement,  as  a  condition  for 
University  rank,  and  even  this  dispensed  with  for 
those  to  whom  that  rank  is  a  nullity.  I  do  not 
propose  to  go  into  the  countless  questions  that  will 
arise  to  all  of  you.  Some  of  the  details  will  appear 
in  the  course  of  these  lectures,  and  the  others  are 
either  unimportant  to  the  general  comprehension 
of  the  system,  or  of  too  technical  a  character  to  be 
understood  in  a  description  like  this.  I  therefore 
propose  to  go  no  farther  into  the  account  of 
Cambridge  studies,  except  as  far  as  they  may 
react  on  Cambridge  life,  which  will  form  the  next 
division  of  my  course  ;  but  to  ask  your  attention 
for  the  rest  of  the  evening  to  the  general  effects 
of  the  whole  system  of  instruction  and  acquire- 
ment on  its  subjects. 

And,  in  the  first  place,  the  life  of  a  Cambridge 
student  is  a  hard  one.  It  is  no  path  of  flowers  ; 
still  less  a  bed  of  roses.  The  scholars  at  Cam- 
bridge are  hard-working  men,  laboring  for  dear 
life  to  obtain  prizes  and  honors  offered,  perhaps, 
in  the  ratio  of  one  to  every  five  competitors. 
Among  these  men   there   is  no  place  for  dabblers 


122  ON   THE   CAM. 

or  dilettanti.  With  many  of  them  their  livelihood 
as  schoolmasters,  or  clergymen,  depends  on  their 
success  in  scholarship ;  with  others,  their  early  in- 
troduction into  law  or  Parliament ;  and  with  all  of 
them,  that  is,  all  the  good  ones,  it  is  a  real  para- 
mount business.  For,  of  all  things,  an  English- 
man, and  especially  a  Cantab,  detests  a  Jack-of-all- 
trades,  —  a  student  who  does  a  little  classics  and  a 
little  mathematics,  a  little  rowing  or  a  little  debat- 
ing. If  such  a  man,  if  any  man,  after  taking  up 
the  regular  studies  in  the  place,  begins  to  flag  or 
fail,  his  private  tutor  will  unhesitatingly  inform 
him  some  day  that  their  connection  will  terminate 
with  that  term.  The  tutors  have  no  time  to  at- 
tend to  men  who  play  studying ;  they  want  those 
who  work  at  it.  You  may  work  up  to  as  high  or 
low  a  standard  as  you  please  ;  but  there  must  be 
no  falling  off.  Your  little  accomplishments,  ath- 
letics, poetry,  music,  all  done  pretty  well,  with 
which  you  hope  to  set  off  your  feeble  scholarship, 
will  only  be  despised,  and  you  will  be  recom- 
mended to  confine  yourself  wholly  to  them,  and 
give  up  all  idea  of  scholarship,  or  else  drop  them. 
"  Will  Perkins  get  his  scholarship  ?  "  "  Perkins  ; 
oh  dear,  no ;  he  sets  up  to  be  a  musical  tip,  you 
know.  Then,  he  's  always  speaking  at  the  Union  ; 
he  's  no  chance  to  get  a  scholarship,  even  if  he 
were  clever  enough."  So  far  is  this  dislike  to 
a  variety  of  pursuits  carried,  so  universal  is  the 
opinion  that  every  man  ought  to  have  his  specialty, 


LECTURE   IV.  123 

that  the  prizes  —  for  essays,  poems,  orations,  etc. 
—  are  seldom  objects  of  competition  to  the  best 
scholars,  and  have  fallen  almost  entirely  into  the 
hands  of  second-rate  men,  who  devote  their  whole 
life  at  college  to  writing  for  them.  It  is  considered 
no  disgrace  for  the  great  men  to  miss  them,  nor  an 
honor  for  the  inferiors  to  get  them.  It  is  held  that 
one  man  may  take  to  prize-getting  as  a  business,  as 
well  as  another  to  prize-fighting.  Another  draw- 
back to  scholarship  is,  that  your  associates  have  no 
notion  of  your  being  at  all  sensitive  about  vour 
successes  or  failures.  Your  prospects  and  history 
are  habitually  canvassed  in  the  most  open  manner. 
You  will  find  yourself  dropped  down  or  put  up  — 
the  latter  very  seldom  —  two  or  three  places  from 
where  you  expect  to  be  ;  your  habits  of  wasting 
time,  or  injudicious  exertion,  freely  talked  of;  and, 
if  you  have  failed,  your  unsuccessful  shots  talked 
over  and  dilated  on  most  unpleasantly.  Scholar- 
ship is  such  a  business,  that  a  student  must  no 
more  wonder  at  being  told,  he  deserved  to  lose  his 
first  class,  or  that  he  can't  begin  to  do  Algebra, 
than  a  merchant  to  hear  of  his  house  being  burnt 
uninsured,  or  his  mortgage  being  foreclosed. 

In  this  way  the  life  of  the  scholar  at  Cambridge 
is,  on  the  outside,  void  of  all  ease  or  poetry.  It  is 
a  hard,  up-hill  labor,  a  hand-to-hand  fight  —  though 
the  prospect  from  the  mountain  is  extensive,  and 
the  conqueror's  laurel  a  true  evergreen.  And  one 
word  let  me  sav  in  mitigation.      All  that  is  wanted 


124  ON  THE   CAM. 

is,  in  spite  of  all  this,  that  the  prospective  senior 
wrangler,  or  chancellor's  medallist,  should  take  a 
firm,  manly  stand  at  once.  If  he  boldly  announces 
what  he  can  and  will  do,  and  then  goes  to  work 
and  does  it,  —  be  the  standard  ever  so  high  or 
so  low,  —  he  will  have  every  facility  offered  on  the 
way,  hearty  congratulation  if  he  succeeds,  and 
kind  condolence  if  he  fails.  If  he  have  some  little 
taste  for  music  or  debating,  etc.,  if  he  stick  to  it, 
and  do  it  well,  he  will  be  praised  and  shown  off  to 
his  heart's  content.  And,  finally,  if  he  is  a  man 
of  great  general  ability,  if  he  can  distinguish  him- 
self  in  several  lines,  he  will  be  applauded  to  the 
skies,  and  his  name  handed  down  in  the  Fresh- 
man's Iliad  forever. 

The  same  remarks  that  I  have  made  about 
scholarship  being  a  specialty  and  a  business,  apply 
equally  to  all  the  other  pursuits  of  the  University, 
to  the  rowing,  the  cricketing,  and  the  other  amuse- 
ments. They  are  all  taken  up  as  by  professionals 
and  connoisseurs,  are  all  worked  on  with  might  and 
main.  The  result  of  this  is  a  tremendous  develop- 
ment of  activity  among  all  the  young  men  at  Cam- 
bridge. I  can  truly  say,  that  all  the  time  I  was 
there,  I  never  knew  but  one  English  student  whom 
I  could  really  call  lazy.  There  were  plenty  who  did 
nothing  but  their  own  pleasure,  —  but  they  wrorked 
on  that  pleasure  so  hard,  that  to  call  them  lazy 
was  cruel  injustice.  This  one  individual  would 
indeed  be  a  model   of  laziness  to  anv  nation  ;  but 


LECTURE   IV.  125 

even  he,  after  putting  off  the  preparation  for  his 
degree  far  too  long,  took  hold  at  the  very  last  with 
an  energv  and  concentration  truly  marvellous,  and 
came  to  a  very  satisfactory  result. 

There  are  various  disadvantages  in  this  system 
which  would  be  serious  objections  to  its  introduc- 
tion into  our  American  University  ;  but  they  are 
disadvantages  arising  from  the  English  character 
and  habits,  not  recognized,  and  perhaps  not  acting 
as  disadvantages  in  England,  and  not  peculiar  to 
Cambridge.  I  shall,  therefore,  reserve  the  consid- 
eration of  them  till  I  speak  in  a  subsequent  lecture 
of  the  relations  in  which  Cambridge  stands  to  Eng- 
land.  In  closing  to-night  my  account  of  Cam- 
bridge studies,  and  the  first  division  of  my  lectures, 
I  desire  to  end  with  words  of  commendation.  The 
task  is  not  difficult  ;  it  is  rather  difficult  to  know 
where  to  stop  commending.  But  I  believe  I  shall 
leave  you  with  the  most  correct  idea  of  what  a 
mighty  power  Cambridge  is,  by  pointing  out  three 
great  advantages  she  has  derived  from  her  system 
of  study. 

From  the  subjects  of  study  pursued  in  her  halls 
have  been  moulded  all  her  forms  of  thought  and 
her  tone  of  mind  for  many  centuries.  I  have  al- 
ready endeavored  to  bring  out  the  admirable  adap- 
tation of  Cambridge  studies  to  strengthen  and  train 
th"  mind.  But  they  are  perhaps  still  more  valua- 
ble as  a  means  of  directing  the  mind  in  its  subse- 
quent pursuits  to  a  lofty  tone    of  thought.     The 


12G  ON   THE   CAM. 

minds  of  men  differ  as  their  bodies,  —  marvellous 
genius,  like  dazzling  beauty,  may  spring  up  in  the 
rudest  spots,  and  all  the  floods  of  study  and  sound 
learning  may  in  vain  beat  on  the  rock  of  brutish- 
ness.  But  taking  man  as  he  is,  it  is  impossible 
that  any  one  of  ordinary  powers,  brought  up  in  a 
classic  atmosphere,  contemplating  classic  models, 
and  taught  in  classic  literature,  should  fail  in  re-" 
finement  and  purity  of  thought,  in  conciseness  and 
elegance  of  diction,  or  that  he  should  be  habitually 
the  victim  of  the  crudities  and  shallowness  that  so 
infest  our  untrained  modern  students.  And  on 
the  other  hand,  no  one  can  have  truly  devoted 
himself  to  the  immutable  foundations,  and  the 
ever  rising  structure  of  mathematics,  without  hav- 
ing; his  mind  imbued  to  the  end  of  his  life  with 
these  two  all-conquering  principles,  —  stability  and 
progress.  Such  has  been  the  history  of  Cambridge. 
Firm  in  her  basis,  convenient  and  elegant  in  her 
design,  she  has  been  broad  and  high  in  her  expan- 
sion ;  or,  to  change  the  metaphor,  —  in  order  to  plant 
her  pickets  close,  to  dig  her  trenches  deep,  she  has 
not  disdained  the  humble  axe  and  spade  ;  the  armor 
on  her  Amazonian  limbs  is  bright  with  gold  and 
jewels  and  sheeny  steel,  and  plays  and  glances 
with  every  movement  of  her  frame  ;  but  when  the 
day  of  battle  comes,  and  she  unsheathes  her  maiden 
sword,  the  lightning-flash  of  its  blade  dazzles  and 
blinds  the  trembling  eves  of  sin,  and  the  trenchant 
edge  deals  wounds  and  death  like  hail  among  the 
alien  hosts  of  Falsehood. 


LECTURE   IV.  127 

Again  :  the  system  of  competition  in  all  her 
studies  has  thrown  into  the  men  of  Cambridge  a 
common  spirit  and  energy  rarely  seen  even  among 
young  men.  All  the  work  is  done  in  the  eye  of 
a  great  cloud  of  witnesses  by  whom  the  scholar 
is  encompassed  ;  they  are  marking  eveiy  step  of 
progress,  and  comparing  it  with  their  own.  He 
is  not  studying  alone  and  unnoticed  ;  he  has  a 
thousand  lion-hearted  youths  to  encourage,  to  sym- 
pathize, to  assist,  to  conquer ;  —  their  work  is 
his  ;  their  recreation  is  his  ;  their  cares  are  his  ; 
their  warfare  is  his.  And  thus  when  Cambridge 
men  act  in  the  world,  it  is  not  as  scattered  indi- 
viduals, not  as  divided  factionists,  miscalled  con- 
federations, but  as  one  great  band  of  brothers. 
They  know  eacli  others'  power,  they  have  meas- 
ured each  others'  strength,  they  have  felt  each 
others'  blows ;  each  knows  where  his  brother  can 
assist  him,  or  where  he  must  assist  his  brother. 
And  thus  this  great  principle  of  rivalry,  so  in- 
rooted  in  all  the  great  crafts  where  man  is  wont 
to  exercise  himself,  not  only  stimulates  and  ener- 
gizes the  student,  but  unites  and  vivifies  the  great 
body  of  graduates,  who,  when  their  warfare  is 
over,  unite  to  carry  through  the  world  the  honor 
and  glory  of  their  Alma  Mater. 

Ijitt  it  is  from  the  last  element  in  her  system 
of  study,- — the  element  of  individual  action,  that 
each  student  shall  choose  his  own  course  for  him- 
self, and  curry  it  (Hit  by  himself,  — that  Cambridge 


128  ON   THE  CAM. 

derives  her  peculiar  strength  and  power.  It  is  by 
this  that  her  student  obtains  a  sense  of  personal 
duty  in  his  work  that  nothing  else  can  give. 
There  is  no  compulsion  on  him  ;  no  task-work. 
Silently  are  the  doors  of  the  mother's  temple 
thrown  open  ;  if  he  will,  he  may  enter,  and  take 
his  place  with  the  initiated.  If,  therefore,  he 
choose  to  enter,  rather  than  remain  with  the  jest- 
ing throng  without,  it  is  for  his  honor  and  his 
conscience  to  carry  out  the  noble  work  he  has 
undertaken.  If  he  fail  aright  to  gain  the  mystic 
secret,  —  if,  when  the  heavens  are  about  to  open, 
and  the  revelation  of  the  tender  goddess  to  de- 
scend, he  mar  the  ceremony  with  words  or  acts 
of  ill-omen,  —  when  the  minister  thrusts  him  from 
the  temple,  he  will  see  the  sad  faces  of  the  wor- 
shippers turned  to  him,  saying  plainer  than  words, 
"  Thou  thyself  would'st  have  it  so."  It  is  this 
spirit  of  individual  obligation  that  has  carried  the 
men  of  Cambridge  to  such  glory.  Whether  it  be 
Bacon,  selecting  all  knowledge  for  his  province  ; 
or  Cromwell,  standing  alone  against  the  bigotry  of 
the  Commons,  the  plots  of  the  Cavaliers,  and  the 
hatred  of  Europe  ;  or  Milton,  seeing  in  blindness, 
in  poverty,  in  obloquy,  the  visions  which  none 
other  saw,  and  making  it  his  chosen  work  to  justify 
the  ways  of  God  to  men  ;  or  Newton,  dashing  at  a 
blow  all  the  nice  systems  of  the  world  concocted 
by  French  subtlety  ;  or  Paley,  alone  daring  to 
strike  at  the   towering  spires  of   serpentine  infi- 


LECTURE    IV.  129 

delity ;  or  Pitt,  holding  to  the  supreme  power,  when 
yet  a  boy,  against  the  incensed  senate  ;  or  Macau- 
lay,  fighting  for  truth  and  justice,  against  the  en- 
tire fanaticism  and  malice  of  Scotland  ;  still  through- 
out  the  earth  are  sounding  the  mighty  footsteps  of 
the  sons  of  Cambridge,  treading  fearlessly  in  their 
chosen  course,  like  the  hero  of  old,  for  the  star 
of  their  mother  points  the  way. 


6* 


LIFE  OF  AN  UNDERGRADUATE  —  REGULAR. 

Trinity  College  selected  as  the  Type.  —  Dinner  in  Hall. 
—  College  Kitchen  and  Courtyard.  —  Union  Society. — 
VfisrERS  on  A  Saint's  Day.  —  A  Student's  Evening.  —  A 
Breakfast  Party.  —  Treatment  of  Younger  by  Older 
Classes.  —  Private  Tutor.  —  A  Walk. 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen  :  — 

In  my  lectures  hitherto  I  have  brought  to  your 
notice  the  objects,  methods,  and  incentives  to  study 
at  the  University  of  Cambridge,  and  considered 
how  far  these  were  compulsory  on  the  undergrad- 
uate, and — to  a  certain  extent — what  was  their 
effect  upon  him.  In  short,  I  have  tried  to  give  the 
University  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  authori- 
ties. I  propose  in  the  five  following  lectures  to 
take  it  up  from  the  student's  point  of  view,  and 
consider  what  is  the  life  of  the  young  men  at  Cam- 
bridge, and  what  position  they  have  taken  in  the 
world  after  leaving  it ;  in  other  words,  what  man- 
ner of  men  are  there  now,  and  what  manner  of 
men  have  been  there  in  years  past. 

If  I  were  to  attempt  a  theoretical  description  of 
student-life  at  Cambridge,  laying  down  accurately 
wherein  it  resembles  and  wherein  it  contradicts 
the  system  of  American  or  German  Universities, 


LECTURE   V.  131 

I  should  be  at  a  loss  where  to  begin  or  end. 
The  simplest  method  will  be  to  take  up  the  life 
of  the  student  practically,  —  to  pass  a  day  with  an 
undergraduate.  Let  us,  then,  to-night  see  what  a 
Cambridge  man  does  in  the  course  of  an  ordinary 
day's  experience,  and  on  Friday  we  will  go  with 
him  to  some  of  his  more  exceptional  duties  and 
pleasures,  which,  when  they  occur,  rather  conflict 
with  the  ordinary  passage  of  events.  In  the  course 
of  this  little  friendly  visit,  the  explanations  of  vari- 
ous technical  points  will  occur  more  naturally  than 
if  we  attempted  to  reduce  them  to  a  philosophical 
system. 

Our  new  acquaintance,  then,  is  a  pensioner  of 
Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  in  his  second  year. 
Pensioner  is  the  name  given  to  the  great  mass  of 
students  who  pay  for  their  board  and  lodging,  and 
are  in  no  way  on  the  foundation  of  the  College. 
I  have  chosen  Trinity  as  the  typical  college  for 
several  reasons.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  the  lar- 
gest, having  more  than  twice  as  many  residents  as 
the  next  largest.  In  the  second  place,  it  contains 
undergraduates  of  all  tastes;  science  and  literature 
are  almost  equally  pursued  there,  and,  in  almost 
all  cases,  it  stands  at  the  head  of  all  the  athletic 
and  sporting  interests.  Furthermore,  it  was  my 
college.  The  first  thing  every  Englishman,  and 
particularly  every  Cambridge  man,  does  after  you 
are  introduced  to  him  is  to  ask  you  to  dinner. 
We  will,  therefore,  take  a  plain  dinner  with  our 


132  ON   THE   CAM. 

friend  in  the  hall  of  Trinity  at  four  o'clock,  p.  m. 
The  hall  is  an  immense  structure,  of  the  age  of 
James  I.,  a  hundred  feet  long,  forty  wide,  and 
fifty  high.  Its  high-peaked  roof  shows  exposed 
the  quaintly-ornamented  rafters  of  massive  oak, 
and  the  open  lantern  at  the  top  allows  the  pigeons 
to  fly  in  and  out  at  all  hours.  The  floor  is  of  solid 
stone,  though  raised  many  feet  above  the  ground. 
The  walls  are  wainscoted  up  to  their  full  height, 
and  covered  with  portraits  of  the  great  men  and 
benefactors  of  Trinity.  The  lofty  Tudor  win- 
dows, especially  where,  at  the  upper  end,  a  species 
of  transept  opens  right  and  left  into  two  gorgeous 
oriels,  are  decorated  with  coats-of-arms  of  the  peers 
and  bishops  that  Trinity  has  nurtured.  Conspicu- 
ous at  the  upper  end  is  blazoned,  in  gilded  wood, 
the  arms  of  England,  France,  and  Ireland,  and 
beneath  the  motto  of  the  Virgin  Queen,  the  tri- 
umphant "  Semper  Eadem."  Right  beneath  this 
protecting  ensign  is  raised  a  double  dais,  whereon 
athwart  the  hall  are  spread  the  tables  for  the  high 
and  mighty.  Below,  five  ranges  of  tables  extend 
the  whole  length  of  the  hall,  of  oak,  solid  as  the 
stone  floor  itself,  with  benches  to  correspond,  while 
in  the  centre  is  the  quaint  apparatus  for  warming, 
an  ancient  open  pan  or  brazier,  piled  up  from  No- 
vember to  May  with  live  coals,  and  expelling  the 
colder  air  from  the  whole  vast  apartment.  Our 
friend  is  seated  with  his  compeers  at  one  of  the 
benches  in  the  centre  of  the  hall.     You  observe 


LECTURE   V.  133 

that  they  have  all  placed  their  square  caps  beneath 
their  seats,  —  not  a  very  good  place,  it  must  be 
confessed,  for  an  article  easily  bent  and  broken, 
and,  indeed,  the  academic  dress  is  seldom  in  good 
preservation.  They  all  retain  their  gown,  which 
here  is  made  of  serge,  and  of  a  deep  blue  color,  by 
which  Trinity  is  distinguished,  each  college  adopting 
its  own  form  of  the  general  type.  At  Oxford  is  no 
such  distinction.  The  gown  is  a  graceful  and  light 
affair.  A  Bachelor  of  Arts  in  every  college  has  a 
black  one  of  a  little  fuller  pattern,  with  two  black 
ribbons  in  front.  A  Master  of  Arts  has  a  gown 
more  ample  still,  while  a  Doctor  of  Divinity  or 
Law  rustles  in  full-blown  splendor  like  the  head 
of  the  Church. 

Our  friend  remains  standing  for  a  few  moments 
while  two  of  the  authorities  read  alternately  a 
Latin  grace,  and  then  the  work  of  destruction  be- 
gins. The  dinner  this  day  is  rather  better  than 
usual,  for  it  happens  to  be  dedicated  to  one  of  the 
great  saints  in  the  English  calendar,  and  on  the 
saints'  davs  poultry  and  ducks  are  inimemorially 
added  to  the  ordinary  masses  of  beef  and  mutton. 
The  carving,  or  rather  the  hacking,  is  very  rough. 
Everybody  is  in  a  tremendous  heat  and  steam,  par- 
ticularly the  waiters,  who  are  on  the  lookout  that 
too  much  shall  not  be  eaten.  For  observe  here 
one  of  the  exquisite  abuses  and  vested  rights  by 
which  the  English  Universities  are  eaten  up;  the 
ample  dinner  in  hall  is  not  provided  by  the  college 


134  ON  THE   CAM. 

authorities.  The  army  of  servants,  gyps,  bed- 
makers,  etc.,  contract  to  supply  so  much  meat  to 
the  college  cook  ;  he  sends  it  up  to  table,  and  all 
that  is  left,  which,  properly  husbanded  by  an  intel- 
ligent artiste,  would  furnish  half  the  next  day's 
meal,  goes  back  as  perquisites  to  the  original  pro- 
prietors. So  day  after  day  you  see  on  the  table 
nothing  but  vast  joints  of  beef,  mutton  and  pork, 
except  when  a  blessed  saint's  day  brings  poultry. 
A  few  luxuries  like  soup  can  be  had  by  paying 
extra. 

The  college  is  so  immense,  five  hundred  and 
twenty-five  undergraduates,  that  even  this  mon- 
strous hall  will  not  contain  them  all.  There  is, 
therefore,  two  thirds  of  the  year,  a  second  dinner 
for  the  Freshmen,  equally  hot  and  good,  but  at  the 
less  convenient  hour  of  five.  But  even  with  this, 
the  pushing,  fighting,  hacking  over  joints,  in  a 
scene  where  the  attendance  is  of  the  roughest, 
the  eating  of  the  plainest,  no  regular  seats  are  as- 
signed, and  such  little  niceties  as  napkins  are  un- 
known, make  the  college  hall  of  Trinitu  pretty 
dismal,  except  for  a  very  hungry  man.  If  eight  or 
ten  friends,  however,  agree  to  be  punctual  and  al- 
ways get  the  same  places,  they  can  do  very  well. 
On  one  side  of  the  room  is  a  table  where  the  fare 
is  a  good  deal  neater,  if  not  better,  and  the  attend- 
ance more  abundant  and  quiet.  It  is  that  of  the 
foundation  scholars,  the  best  students  of  their  year, 
who  receive  this  dinner  gratis  on  condition  of  extra 


LECTURE   V.  135 

regularity  at  chapel.  Still  farther  up  on  the  same 
side  is  the  table  for  the  Bachelors  of  Arts.  Here 
the  fare  and  attendance  are  very  decidedly  im- 
proved ;  wine  is  provided,  and  certain  rules  are 
adopted  to  secure  order  and  quiet.  And  above,  on 
the  dais,  at  those  tables  athwart  the  hall, — contem-* 
plate  with  me  if  you  please  the  magnificence  of 
that  dinner.  It  is  the  Fellows'  table  that  you  see  ; 
the  table  where  those  who  are  no  long;er  under- 
graduates,  no  longer  bachelors,  but  are  resting  in 
the  unequalled  glory  of  Masters  of  Arts  and  fellows 
of  the  college,  in  the  plenitude  of  their  full-sleeved 
gowns,  are  enjoying  one  of  the  very  best  dinners 
ever  put  on  a  table.  On  the  festival  of  a  saint, 
when  it  is  known  that  the  fare  will  be  something 
quite  surpassing,  each  fellow  generally  asks  one  or 
two  guests,  and  happy  are  those  who  get  such  in- 
vitation. In  sober  earnest  —  since  the  fellows  are 
a  good  deal  shut  out  from  the  world  and  female 
society,  and  are  living  a  regular  monastic  life,  they 
are  determined  to  have  the  very  best  dinner  they 
can  for  their  money.  Notice  those  five  or  six 
young  men  in  blue  cloth  gowns,  ornamented  with 
a  profusion  of  silver  lace,  who  are  sitting  with  the 
fellows.  They  are  undergraduates  called  fellow- 
commoners,  who  have  the  privilege  of  sitting  in 
ball  and  chapel  with  the  fellows  on  condition  of 
wearing  this  very  conspicuous  gown,  of  paying 
nominally  twice,  and  really  three  times  as  much 
for  all    college   expenses,   and    of  renouncing    all 


136  ON  THE   CAM. 

claim  to  scholarships  and  fellowships.  At  the  other 
colleges,  the  position  of  fellow-commoner  is  chiefly 
reserved  for  elderly  men,  who  study  for  the  Church 
late  in  life,  and  would  not  enjoy  mixing  with  un- 
dergraduates, very  often  married  men.  At  Trin- 
ity, however,  the  fellow-commoners  are  generally 
young  men  of  rank  and  fortune,  who  want  to  get 
the  most  for  their  money.  You  will  notice  also  a 
couple  of  young  men  near  the  head  of  the  table, 
evidently  undergi'aduates,  but  still  in  the  full  mas- 
ter's gown.  They  are  noblemen,  or  the  eldest 
sons  of  noblemen,  and  have  literally  to  pay  four 
times  as  much  for  all  regular  college  expenses,  and 
are  fleeced  in  a  hundred  other  ways. 

But  your  attention  is  attracted  to  the  lower  part 
of  the  hall,  —  Avhat  is  that  large  silver  vessel  going 
from  hand  to  hand  ?  It  is  an  immense  drinking 
cup,  filled  with  a  peculiar  brand  of  strong  ale, 
brewed  by  the  college,  and  known  as  Audit,  be- 
cause every  year  a  new  tap  is  broached  on  the 
day  when  the  accounts  are  audited.  It  is  only 
produced  on  these  few  special  days  in  the  hall,  and 
is  greatly  sought  after.  A  slight  scrimmage  you 
will  observe  arises  between  our  friend  and  his 
neighbor,  founded  on  an  accusation  that  our  ac- 

JD  ' 

quaintance  had  both  the  last  draught  of  the  ex- 
hausted cup  and  its  first  when  replenished.  The 
joints  of  meat  and  poultry  are  now  cleared  away, 
except  where  a  few  stragglers  who  have  come  in 
very  late  are  endeavoring  to  extract  some  comfort 


LECTURE   V.  137 

out  of  a  sadly  torn  and  plundered  leg  of  mutton. 
They  are  succeeded  by  a  tolerable  stock  of  plain 
puddings  and  pies,  —  the  scholars  having  the  glori- 
ous privilege  of  selecting  their  own  second  course. 
All  this  time  two  college  servants  have  been  walk- 
ing up  and  down  the  hall,  pricking  off  on  two  long 
written  —  not  printed — lists  the  names  of  all  pres- 
ent. Observe  the  gesture  of  the  marker  at  this 
moment.  There  is  an  undergraduate  at  the  open 
door  of  the  hall,  raising  his  cap  to  attract  atten- 
tion. The  marker  nods  and  marks  him,  as  be- 
ing there,  though  not  wishing  to  stay  and  dine. 
Above  where  this  youth  has  just  appeared,  our 
friend's  notice  is  drawn  right  in  the  middle  of  his 
ale,  by  sarcastic  remarks  to  the  effect  that  he  is 
under  scrutiny.  Sure  enough,  in  the  gallery  open- 
ing into  the  hall  above  the  door  are  a  large  party 
of  ladies  and  gentlemen,  making  a  visit  to  Trinity 
College,  and  stopping  to  look  down  and  see  the 
animals  fed.  There,  through  at  last.  Our  friend 
is  off  like  a  shot.  He  does  not  wait  for  the  final 
grace.  This  is  not  read  by  the  fellows  them- 
selves,—  they  are  too  much  overcome  by  their 
exertions  to  be  thankful,  so  two  of  the  scholars 
art;  obliged  to  wait  long  after  they  have  got 
through,  in  order  to  return  thanks  for  the  fel- 
lows'  dinner. 

As  our  friend  leaves  the  hall,  he  stops  in  the 
passage  just  outside  the  door  to  read  the  notices 
posted  upon  the  oak  screen  that  cuts  off  this  pas- 


138  ON   THE   CAM. 

sage.  He  sees  that  "W.  H.  Stone  has  won  the 
college  prize  for  Alcaics  ;  the  Professor  of  Moral 
Philosophy  begins  his  lectures  next  Wednesday ; 
Professor  Harold  Browne  of  Emmanuel  will  preach 
next  Sunday  in  Great  St.  Mary's,  the  University 
Church  ;  and  the  Trinity  Cricket  Club  will  meet 
for  choice  of  officers.  His  next  step  is  down  a  low 
archway  into  the  great  college  kitchen.  Here  the 
old  institution  of  a  smoke-jack  is  in  perfection, 
roasting  scores  of  joints  and  whole  coops  of  poultry 
at  once.  High  up  on  the  old  stone  walls  are  two 
insignia  of  the  kitchen  ;  one  apparently  the  shell 
of  a  vast  turtle,  presage  of  good  cheer  ;  the  other 
the  ancient  arms  of  the  college,  the  English  Lion 
and  Roses,  and  the  grand  old  motto,  that  has  sus- 
tained the  sons  of  Trinity  through  many  a  hard 
contest  with  wickedness  in  high  places,  —  "Vir- 
tue is  the  true  nobility."  *  Our  friend  steps  into 
a  little  office  at  the  side  of  the  kitchen,  and  gives  a 
modest  order.  The  whole  cookery  business  of  a 
college  at  Cambridge  is  really  an  institution.  Each 
college  has  its  staff  of  excellent  cooks  who  not  only 
serve  the  public  dinner  in  the  hall,  but  also  furnish 
meals  and  provisions  ready  cooked  on  any  scale  of 
magnificence  or  simplicity  to  members  of  the  col- 
lege. Considering  the  superior  quality  of  the 
food  and  cookery,  and  the  promptness  with  which 
it  is  served,  the  prices  charged  are  by  no  means 
exorbitant.     A  graduate,  bachelor,  or  master  of 

*  "  Virtus  vera  nobilitas." 


LECTURE   V.  139 

arts,  can  order  any  amount  he  likes,  merely  by 
signing  bis  name.  An  undergraduate  is  confined 
within  certain  limits ;  but  a  special  order  signed 
by  his  tutor  supersedes  these,  and  these  tutor's 
orders  for  breakfast,  dinner,  and  supper  are  ac- 
corded with  very  great  liberality.  Having  re- 
quested the  cook  to  send  in  a  pair  of  cold  fowls 
and  a  tongue  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  our 
friend  retraces  his  steps,  and  passes  out  into  the 
courtyard. 

The  Old  Court  of  Trinity  is  one  of  the  most 
splendid  monuments  at  Cambridge.  It  is  far  the 
largest  academic  courtyard  in  England,  being  an 
irregular  square  of  over  two  acres  in  extent.  On 
the  west  side  are  the  hall,  with  a  few  plain  mod- 
ern buildings,  containing  the  kitchen,  &c,  in  con- 
nection with  it,  and  also  a  beautiful  bit  of  battle- 
mented  Tudor  architecture,  the  Master's  Lodge, 
or  residence  of  the  head  of  the  College.  On  the 
north  is  a  small  row  of  plain  buildings,  of  the  time 
of  the  Stuarts,  occupied  by  some  of  the  dignitaries, 
and  a  fine  old  gateway,  whereon  is  a  statue  of  Ed- 
ward III.,  founder  of  King's  Hall,  the  germ  of 
Trinity  College  ;  beneath  him  is  the  motto,  "Pugna 
pro  patria,"  and  still  lower  the  proud  announce- 
ment, "  Tertius  Edvardus,  fama  super  a^thera  no- 
tus."  Above  him  is  a  clock,  which  strikes  every 
hour  twice.  The  members  of  the  neighboring  Col- 
lege of  St.  .John's  complaining  that  Trinity  clock 
struck   too   loud,   a   second    movement   was   added 


140  ON  THE  CAM. 

which  struck  in  a  softer  note,  and  they  were  per- 
fectly satisfied.  The  chapel,  a  long,  ugly  piece  of 
modern  pseudo-Gothic,  completes  the  side.  The 
east  and  south  sides  are  occupied  by  a  long  series 
of  very  comfortable  lodging  apartments,  the  main 
walls  of  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  when  all  the 
students  are  understood  to  have  had  beds  arranged 
throughout  the  length  of  one  or  two  loner  dormi- 
tories ;  therefore  the  partitions  are  more  recent. 
In  the  rear  of  one  side  is  access  to  the  lecture- 
rooms,  and  exactly  opposite  the  Master's  Lodge 
stands  the  main  gateway,  surmounted  by  Henry 
VIII.  without  and  James  I.  within.  Every  one  of 
these  suites  of  rooms  teems  with  recollections  of 
the  great  men  who  have  lived  there.  But  suffice 
it  to  mention  one  single  staircase,  leading  to  six 
sets  of  rooms.  In  that  have  lived  successively 
Sir  Isaac  Newton,  Lord  Lyndhurst,  Macaulay, 
Thackeray,  and  Tennyson.  The  centre  of  the 
court  is  divided  into  six  plots  of  the  velvet  turf 
of  England,  clipped  and  rolled  to  the  last  degree 
of  softness.  It  is  a  high  offence  for  any  one  under 
the  degree  of  master  of  arts  to  walk  on  the  grass. 
In  the  centre  is  a  grand  old  fountain  under  a  mag- 
nificent  canopy  of  ornamented  stone-work,  near  it 
one  of  Troughton's  curious  sun-dials.  But  our 
friend  has  seen  all  these  things  again  and  again. 
He  hurries  through  the  gateway.  As  he  stops  to 
speak  to  the  porter,  does  he  reflect  that  the  rooms 
over  his  head  were  Lord  Bacon's  ? 


LECTURE   V.  141 

He  passe 3  out  into  the  crooked,  narrow,  busy 
Trinity  Street.  It  is  full  of  brilliant  shops  and 
dingy  lodging-houses.  Immediately  opposite  the 
gate  stands  the  entrance  to  the  last  new  Court  of 
Trinity,  —  a  gift  of  the  present  honored  head  of 
the  College.  A  few  rods  through  Trinity  Street 
bring  him  to  Green  Street,  and  up  the  steps  of  the 
Union  Society.  The  Union  Societies  of  Cam- 
bridge and  Oxford  are  exceedingly  characteristic 
institutions.  They  are  open  to  the  whole  body  of 
the  University.  Anybody  can  join  who  likes,  with- 
out the  formality  of  an  election.  That  at  Cam- 
bridge contains  a  very  well  stocked  reading-room, 
good  library,  and  convenient  writing-room.  All 
the  popular  newspapers  and  periodicals  are  found 
there.  Its  five  hundred  members  making  constant 
use  of  it  from  day  to  day,  never,  perhaps,  writing 
a  note  out  of  its  rooms,  or  reading  for  amusement 
anything  not  supplied  by  it,  are  yet  to  a  vast 
extent  wholly  careless  of  who  controls  it,  or  what 
it  does  as  a  society.  Its  active  working  in  all  the 
points  I  mention  is  in  the  hands  of  two  managing 
clerks.  They  are  overseen  by  a  board  of  officers, 
chosen  every  term  from  among  the  whole  body  of 
members,  graduates  and  undergraduates.  For 
these  offices,  in  an  American  college,  the  compe- 
tition would  be  terrific,  the  canvassing  incessant, 
and  the  meeting  for  business  most  stormy.  Scarce 
anything  of  this  is  known  at  Cambridge.  All  the 
officers   are    frequently   elected    without   opposition 


142  ON   THE   CAM. 

term  after  term.  A  contested  election  twice  a  year 
is  a  very  large  allowance.  And  hardly  anybody 
cares  about  the  business-working  of  the  society. 
When  a  contested  election  does  arise,  it  is  gener- 
ally on  some  point  like  college  rivalry,  wholly  apart 
from  the  real  business. 

The  debates  excite  a  little  more  interest.  Ev- 
ery Tuesday  evening  a  debate  is  held  in  the  large 
reading-room,  on  some  subject  previously  an- 
nounced. Any  one  is  at  liberty  to  propose  a 
subject ;  but  there  is  so  little  eagerness  to  assume 
this  post,  that  it  generally  falls  on  the  officers  to 
find  somebody  to  bell  the  cat,  or  else  do  it  them- 
selves. I  should  very  willingly  give  you  a  little 
abstract  of  one  of  these  debates,  if  there  were 
anything  to  abstract ;  but  their  general  character 
is  beneath  contempt ;  once  in  a  while  there  is  an 
animated  discussion,  still  less  often  a  good  speaker, 
and  on  very  rare  occasions  a  full  house.  English- 
men are  not  commonly  orators ;  they  consider 
public  speaking  as  much  a  specialty,  a  gift  of  indi- 
viduals, as  acting  or  concert-singing,  and,  in  truth, 
the  orator  is  put  very  much  on  the  same  level. 
Several  causes  have  conspired  to  raise  in  Cam- 
bridge, more  even  than  in  the  rest  of  England,  a 
contempt  for  rhetoric.  It  is  considered  a  jugglery, 
a  cheat,  something  contraband,  which  a  gentleman 
and  a  scholar  had  better  keep  clear  of.  Even  when 
a  Cambridge  undergraduate  does  consent  to  express 
his  views  in  public,  it  is  in  a  deprecatory  style,  as 


LECTURE   V.  143 

who  should  say,  "  Don't  tell  of  me."  I  have  heard 
a  man,  acute,  well-informed,  lively,  rise  to  speak  on 
a  question  he  understood  and  had  studied,  and  on 
which  he  wanted  and  intended  to  speak,  in  a  house 
that  respected  and  liked  him,  with  a  subtle  but 
shallow  antagonist  to  oppose,  and  in  the  certainty 
of  a  strong  cause  ;  and  his  exordium  wras  in  this 
style.  "  Mr.  President,  —  I  did  n't  mean  to  speak 
to-night,  and  I  have  n't  much  to  say.  I  don't  in- 
tend to  trouble  the  LTouse  long ;  but,  really,  the 
last  speaker  did  n't  seem  to  me  to  know  what  the 
discussion  is  about  at  all.  I  don't  think  he  under- 
stood the  question,  because,  &c,  etc."  And  all 
this  is  not  like  the  phrases  we  are  so  much  accus- 
tomed to :  "  Sir,  it  is  with  no  premeditated  speech 
that  I  rise  to  address  this  assembly,  &c,"  which, 
delivered  as  gliby  as  a  school-declamation  of 
'•  Spartacus,"  causes  about  as  much  illusion  in 
our  minds.  My  friend  really  and  truly  had  n't 
prepared  anything ;  he  did  n't  mean  to  detain  the 
house  ;  his  rising  that  night  was  merely  because 
conscience,  reason,  sense,  spirit,  had  temporarily 
prevailed  in  the  life-long  fight  with  habit  and  prej- 
udice which  bade  him  avoid  all  such  public  per- 
formances. I > nt  they  could  not  prevail  far  enough 
to  give  dignity  to  his  manner,  life  to  his  voice,  and 
spirit  to  his  diction.  Therefore  I  can  give  you  no 
better  idea  of  the  Union  debates  than  by  leaving 
them  undescribed.  In  general,  they  arc  death 
itself.      There  comes  everv  now  and  then  a  season 


144  ON   THE   CAM. 

when  a  few  active  souls  stir  the  Union  into  life. 
But  even  then  the  animation  cannot  create  the 
habit  of  good  speaking,  to  which  the  whole  genius 
of  the  place  is  opposed ;  and  the  most  intelligent 
audiences  of  Cambridge  young  men,  always  pro- 
fessing the  most  thorough  contempt  for  rhetoric, 
are  habitually  carried  off  their  feet  by  the  most 
worn-out  claptrap.  There  are  two  subjects  which 
never  fail  to  rouse  the  flagging  interest,  and  pro- 
duce lively,  if  not  eloquent  debates.  One  is  any- 
thing connected  with  the  ecclesiastical  establish- 
ment of  England ;  the  other,  any  question  of  the 
immediate  management  of  College  and  University. 
The  foreign  affairs  of  Europe  and  America  are 
tolerably  suggestive  ;  literature,  science,  and  philo- 
sophy, dead  weights. 

But  we  have  been  leaving  our  friend  an  uncon- 
scionable time  on  the  Union  steps  ;  to  be  sure  he 
has  been  discussing  whether  Davies  will  win  the 
University  scholarship  next  year  ;  and  this  all-ab- 
sorbing topic  of  interest  for  the  classical  students 
at  Cambridge  is  enough  to  excuse  any  delay  or 
impoliteness.  But  now  he  bounds  up,  and  rushes 
into  the  reading-room,  for  he  missed  the  paper  this 
.  morning.  As  he  takes  up  the  Times,  and  subsides 
into  a  very  comfortable  arm-chair,  he  casually  asks 
his  neighbor,  "  if  the  Yankees  have  got  another 
drubbing  "  ;  but,  before  he  can  get  an  answer,  his 
eye  catches  the  telegram  of  the  battle  of  Chatta- 
nooga, and  he  does  not  repeat  the  question.*  The 
*  This  Lecture  was  delivered  January  26,  1864. 


LECTURE   V.  145 

Times  is  soon  discussed,  a  couple  of  other  papers 
skimmed  over,  two  or  three  magazines  ditto,  and  a 
couple  of  letters  written  and  posted.  By  this  time, 
the  deep-toned  chapel  bell  of  Trinity  is  beginning 
to  sound  loud  in  his  ears,  and  he  reflects  that  a 
slight  neglect  of  the  religious  services,  in  the  early 
part  of  the  week,  will  necessitate  attendance  to- 
night. It  being,  as  we  have  said,  a  saint's  day, 
he  repairs  to  his  room.  It  is  in  Letter  D,  New 
Court.  There  are  now  four  courts  in  Trinity,  — 
the  Old  or  Great,  Neville's,  the  New,  —  about 
thirty-five  years  old,  —  and  the  Master's.  He 
crosses  the  Great  Court,  defiles  past  the  entrance 
of  the  hall,  and  emerging  in  the  Neville's  Court, 
slips  through  a  portion  of  the  cloisters,  and  under 
an  archway  into  the  New  Court.  Already  he  sees 
the  stream  of  white  surplices  filing  from  every 
staircase  ;  for  at  service  on  Saturday  evening,  Sun- 
days, and  saints'  days,  every  member  of  the  col- 
lege, except  the  noblemen,  has  to  appear  in  a  white 
surplice,  as  though  he  were  about  to  read  the  ser- 
vice. He  enters  the  door  over  which  the  letter 
D  is  painted,  the  staircases,  or,  as  we  should  say 
at  Harvard,  entries,  being  lettered.  His  room 
is  gained,  gown  dashed  off  and  surplice  donned. 
Another  run  across  the  court;  plenty  of  time, 
though,  the  service  does  not  begin  till  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  after  the  bell.  He  enters  the  chapel, 
a  narrow,  inconvenient  building,  of  very  slight  ar- 
chitectural merit.      It  is  divided,  like  all  the  college 

7  j 


14G  ON   THE  CAM. 

chapels  in  England,  into  two  parts,  by  a  screen  of 
oak,  above  which  is  the  organ.  The  ante-chapel 
contains  some  fine  stained  windows  :  the  memorial 
tablets  of  many  fellows  of  Trinity  who  are  buried 
there ;  and  three  glorious  statues.  Right  and  left 
of  the  passage  through  the  screen,  are  those  of 
Barrow  and  Bacon,  and  near  the  entrance  is  Rou- 
biliac's  masterpiece,  —  the  statue  of  Isaac  Newton, 
with  the  motto,  "  Qui  genus  humanum  ingenio  su~ 
peravit." 

But  our  friend  has  seen  all  this  before.  He 
does  not  stop  to  notice  it ;  nor  the  beautiful  carving 
of  Gibbons  with  which  the  chapel  itself  is  filled. 
At  the  upper  end  is  the  communion-table,  raised 
on  three  high  steps ;  along  each  side  of  the  remain- 
der run  two  tiers  of  raised  seats,  the  masters  of  arts 
and  felloAv-commoners  occupying  the  highest,  the 
bachelors  of  arts,  choristers,  and  undergraduate 
scholars  the  second.  The  seats  for  the  body  of  the 
students  are  hard  benches,  with  very  flat  apologies 
for  cushions,  not  to  sit,  but  kneel  upon,  arranged 
lengthwise  throughout  the  body  of  the  chapel  and 
chancel.  On  one  of  these  our  friend  seats  him- 
self, and  watches  the  white  crowd  pour  in.  The 
bachelors  of  arts  wear  hoods,  trimmed  with  white 
swansdown,  hanging  down  their  backs  ;  the  mas- 
ters, hoods  of  black  and  white  silk,  and  the  doctoi's, 
scarlet.  Presently  pour  in  the  two  rows  of 
chorister-boys,  who  take  the  treble  parts  ;  there 
are  six  of  these  on  each  side,  together  with  half 


LECTURE   V.  147 

the  number  of  adult  male  singers.  The  effect  of 
these  eighteen  voices  is  very  good,  and  the  re- 
sponsive parts  are  beautiful.  There  —  enter  the 
venerable  head  of  the  college,  ushered  to  a  high 
seat  next  the  door  ;  follow  him  the  two  deans,  — 
officers  who  attend  to  the  police-work  of  the  col- 
lege, —  taking  their  seats  on  high,  behind  the  chor- 
isters. The  chaplain  rises  at  the  upper  end.  The 
evening  service  of  the  Church  of  England  is  per- 
formed, in  a  manner  which  seems  very  hurried  to 
an  American  ;  but  which  soon  appears  in  very  fa- 
vorable contrast  to  the  drawl  so  common  here. 
As  the  "  General  Confession  "  is  begun,  see  how 
every  undergraduate  rises  from  his  seat,  turns 
round,  and  bodily  kneels;  neither  sits  nor  bows, 
nor  any  compromising  posture.  The  musical  part 
of  the  service  is  very  good.  The  Psalms  are 
chanted  responsively,  and  to  very  beautiful  tunes. 
The  lessons  from  the  Bible  are  always  read  by 
some  member  of  the  college  proper  or  foundation  : 
to-night  being  :i  saint's  day,  by  a  fellow,  on  Satur- 
davs  and  Sundays  by  a  bachelor  scholar,  on  week- 
davs  bv  an  undergraduate  scholar.  This  is  a  verv 
pleasing  part  of  the  service,  and  greatly  interests 
the  young  men  themselves  in  it.  All  this  time  the 
two  markers  have  been  pacing  up  and  down  the 
chapel  pricking  down  those;  who  are  present.  The 
general  bearing  of  the  undergraduates  is  orderlv, 
except  at  the  extreme  upper  end,  behind  the  chap- 
lain, which   is  infested   by  talkers,  and  called    In- 


148  ON   THE   CAM. 

iquity  Corner.  There  is  always,  at  the  appropriate 
part  of  the  service,  an  anthem,  adapted  from  some 
first-rate  composer,  and  generally  very  well  per- 
formed. But  to-night  it  is  one  of  those  persistent 
ones  where  some  refrain,  as  "  Hallelujah,"  is  re- 
peated over  and  over  again,  till  it  seems  as  if  it 
never  would  stop.  At  last,  —  no,  just  as  the  whole 
congregation  is  going  to  kneel,  the  tenor  breaks 
out  "  Hallelujah  "  again,  the  counter-tenor  catches 
it  from  his  lips,  follow  the  bass,  and  six  trebles  in 
full  cry  "  Hallelujah  "  three  times  over  ;  and  then, 
after  an  interminable  peal  of  "  Aniens,"  the  chap- 
lain begins  hurrying  through  —  truth  obliges  me 
so  to  say  it  —  the  last  prayers.  As  the  clock 
strikes  seven,  he  concludes  ;  and  the  white  crowd 
pour  out. 

At  the  door  of  the  chapel  our  friend  meets  one 
of  his  friends,  a  bachelor  fellow.  This  gentleman 
was  Senior  Classic  a  year  ago,  and  gained  his  fel- 
lowship the  first  time,  so  he  is  a  model  of  scholar- 
ship and  regularity  to  every  one,  and  of  great  ad- 
miration to  the  younger  members  of  the  college. 
They  stroll  together  to  the  fellow's  staircase  in  the 
cloisters,  and  he  says,  "  Come  round  to  tea  and 
whist  this  evening  at  nine."  The  invitation  is 
eagerly  accepted,  and  off  runs  our  friend,  for  he 
must  get  through  a  good  bit  of  work  to-night,  and 
it  has  struck  seven.  So  to  secure  himself  from  all 
interruption,  he  sports  the  outer  door.  These  outer 
doors  are  tremendous  constructions  of  hard  wood, 


LECTURE   V.  149 

opening  outwards,  and  so  when  fastened  by  a  spring- 
lock,  absolutely  impenetrable  without  a  key.  When 
shut  to  they  are  said  to  be  sported.  Within  this 
barricade  our  friend's  domain  consists  of  a  front 
room  about  14  feet  by  13,  looking  into  the  court- 
yard, a  back  room  not  quite  as  wide,  and  a  small 
dark  cupboard  called  a  gyp-room,  where  miscellanea 
are  kept.  Into  this  receptacle  he  carefully  puts  the 
fowls  and  tongue  aforesaid  which  he  finds  have  ar- 
rived from  the  kitchen  in  his  absence.  As  to  the 
internal  appearance  of  the  apartment  suffice  it  to 
say  it  is  a  college  room,  —  though  not,  on  that  ac- 
count, the  carpetless,  curtainless  den  of  a  bear  as 
we  were  requested  to  believe  before  Gail  Hamil- 
ton's errata  came  out.  No,  it  is  very  comfortable, 
and  all  the  more  from  having  a  good  soft-coal  fire 
in  an  open  grate,  instead  of  that  abomination,  a 
cast-iron  stove. 

Our  friend  gets  out  his  Plato  and  Dictionary, 
and  also  writing  materials.  His  first  work  is  to 
prepare  some  composition,  as  it  is  called.  This 
does  not  mean  an  English  essay.  No,  his  private 
tutor  has  handed  him,  on  a  piece  of  paper,  a  copy 
of  twenty  lines  from  Dryden's  "  Palamon  and 
Arcite."  This,  if  you  please,  he  is  to  translate 
into  Latin  Hexameters  as  near  like  Virgil  as  pos- 
sible. And  he  will  do  it  too,  and  it  wont  take 
him  an  hour  and  a  quarter  to  do  the  rough  copy. 
And  the  rest  of  the  time  till  nine  he  '11  have  to 
read  some  Plato.      And  in  doing  these  verses  not 


150  ON   THE   CAM. 

a  shadow  of  grammar  or  dictionary  will  he  use, 
and  yet  the  verses  will  be  very  far  from  bad.  So 
he  works  away,  cheerfully  but  silently.  At  about 
half  past  eight  a  rustling  is  heard  in  the  back 
room ;  the  door  is  opened,  and  slowly  appears  an 
aged  grim  figure,  not  unlike  the  witches  in  Mac- 
beth, holding  a  dimly  burning  lamp.  Yet  the 
brave  heart  of  a  Cambridge  youth  never  quails. 
He  only  says,  "  O,  Mrs.  Day,  breakfast  for  six  to- 
morrow at  nine, — please  order  coffee  and  muffins 
at  Hattersley's." —  "Very  well,  sir";  and  the 
bedmaker,  who  has  entered  by  a  door  to  which 
she  alone  has  the  key,  disappears,  laying  a  funny 
little  twisted  note  on  his  table.  It  requires  an  im- 
mediate answer,  and  fearing  to  trust  the  venerable 
genius  of  the  apartments  with  his  message,  he 
slips  on  cap  and  gown,  and  hies  him  to  his  friend's 
room  just  outside  the  gate. 

As  he  is  hurrying  back,  nine  having  already 
struck,  behold  a  singular  scene.  A  procession  is 
seen  advancing,  consisting  of  a  master  of  arts  in 
full  academicals,  with  white  tie  and  bands,  and 
behind  two  stalwart  men,  their  coats  ornamented 
with  a  profusion  of  buttons.  The  train  moves 
speedily  up  to  an  undergraduate  without  a  gown, 
and  in  a  little  jaunty  hat.  "  Are  you  a  member 
of  the  University,  sir?  "  says  the  clergyman,  raising 
his  cap  politely.  "  Yes,  sir."  "  Why  have  you 
not  your  academic  dress  on  ?  "  No  excuse  is  appa- 
rent.    "  Your  name  and  college  if  you  please,  sir." 


LECTURE   V.  151 

"  Jones  of  Trinity  Hall."  "  Jones  of  Trinity  Hall ; 
I  fine  you  six  and  eight  pence,  sir ;  remember,"  — 
to  his  attendants,  —  "  Jones  of  Trin.  Hall,  6s.8c?." 
—  and  the  train  goes  on.  This  is  proctorizing  ;  the 
reverend  one  is  a  proctor,  —  the  attendants  are 
usually  called  bulldogs.  There  are  two  proctors, 
and  two  assistant  proctors,  chosen  from  the  colleges 
by  a  peculiar  rotation.  It  is  their  duty  to  attend 
to  various  University  matters,  but  particularly  to 
parade  the  streets  in  this  way,  with  their  attend- 
ants, reprehending  all  offences  against  University 
discipline  or  public  morality. 

Meanwhile  our  friend  has  slipped  through  the 
gate  and  reached  his  entertainer's  rooms  in  the 
cloisters.  There  on  the  table  are  many  loaves  of 
bread,  little  pats  of  butter,  each,  according  to  the 
measure  I  stated,  an  inch  roll,  and  sturdy  white 
gallipots  of  jam,  which  is  eaten  wholesale  on  bread 
at  Cambridge.  All  this  is  from  the  host's  private 
stores.  Two  or  three  cups  of  strong  tea  are  dis- 
cussed, and  the  party  sits  down  to  whist.  I  can't 
pretend  to  give  you  all  their  hands,  or  who  won 
each  odd  trick;  but  I  must,  at  the  risk  of  shocking 
everybody,  say  that  all  Cambridge,  including  the 
steadiest  and  most  religious  men,  plays  whist  and 
other  games  for  money,  though  the  stakes  are  gen- 
erally small.  As  the  night  wears  on,  frequent 
peals  at  the  gate  bell  are  heard.  To  explain  these 
it  must  be  noticed,  that  at  sunset  all  the  various 
entrances  into  the  colleges  are  shut  and  locked  ex- 


152  ON   THE   CAM. 

ccpt  the  one  at  the  great  gate.  At  ten,  this  also 
is  locked,  but  the  porter  is  in  his  lodge,  to  let  in 
every  one  that  rings  the  bell.  All  entering  after 
loek-up  are  registered,  and  a  very  trifling  fine 
levied  for  all  between  ten  and  twelve.  After 
twelve  the  chain  is  put  up,  and  a  terrible  blowing- 
up  is  the  consequence  of  coming  in  later.  If  re- 
peated, the  results  are  serious,  though  in  no  way 
affecting  the  rank  in  scholarship. 

As  twelve  approaches  these  peals  come  louder 
and  thicker,  —  then  voices  are  heard  perhaps 
rather  uproarious,  —  our  friends  break  up  their 
party.  The  night  is  so  lovely,  that  two  or  three 
of  them  cannot  resist  pacing  up  and  down  the  old 
cloisters,  whose  echo  sounds  like  the  step  of  a  com- 
rade, or  along  the  nagged  path  in  the  great  court, 
where  the  fountain  plashes  ceaselessly  all  night 
long.  O  these  walks  in  Trinity  Court  at  night ! 
Those  whose  feet  once  kept  pace  with  mine  are 
pacing  the  deck  of  the  Indian  steamer,  or  mount- 
ing guard  on  the  battlements  at  Fort  William,  or 
treading  wearily  the  narrow  rooms  of  many  a 
school  and  parsonage  all  over  England,  and  some 
have  found  rest  at  last.  But  never  did  lighter 
feet  echo  to  lighter  hearts  than  along  the  gray 
flagstones  of  the  courts  of  Trinity.  Our  friend  at 
length  seeks  his  chamber,  —  the  fire  is  happily  not 
out,  and  he  sinks  upon  an  exceedingly  comfortable 
bed. 

At  about  half  past  six  he  is  aroused  to  conscious- 


LECTURE   V.  153 

ness  by  allusions  to  the  hour  and  morning  chapel. 
It  is  from  his  gyp,  who  thinks  it  proper  his  master 
should  attend.  "  No,  thank  you,  Stacey,"  is  the 
groan  from  under  the  bedclothes.  "  Don't  forget 
breakfast  at  nine."  Finally,  after  a  roll  or  two, 
about  a  quarter  past  seven  he  rises,  and  from  his 
bedroom  window  contemplates  the  prospect.  A 
beautiful  old  lawn,  still  of  England's  velvety  soft- 
ness, varied  by  broad  walks  under  lines  of  old  trees 
—  on  the  left  is  the  college  brewery,  and  on  the 
right  the  Trinity  bridge  is  visible.  But  what  he 
thinks  of  is  the  December  fog  coming  right  up  the 
river  as  thick  as  a  Scotch  mist,  and  freezing  him 
to  the  bones  to  look  at.  In  a  few  minutes,  how- 
ever, he  is  seated  in  his  front  room  at  a  nice  fire, 
duly  made  for  him,  observe,  by  the  bedmaker.  To 
her  he  hands  a  slip  of  paper,  —  it  is  an  order  on 
the  kitchen.  He  then  looks  over  and  corrects  the 
Latin  verses  of  last  nio;ht,  and  reads  a  little  more 
Plato  ;  thus  securing  a  good  hour  and  more  of 
work  before  breakfast.  At  half  past  eight  he  moves 
his  work  to  another  table,  for  now  his  bedmaker 
enters  and  proceeds  to  lay  the  cloth,  together  with 
knives,  forks,  etc.,  all  from  his  own  stores.  Nine 
o'clock  strikes, — a  great  rattle  outside;  enter  a 
boy  bearing  a  waiter  covered  with  green  baize,  — 
green  baize  taken  off  discloses  cups,  saucers,  and 
spoons  for  six  ;  large  coffee-pot,  full  of  first-rate 
hot  coffee,  cream,  sugar,  and  hot  milk  to  corre- 
spond, two  covered  plates  of  muffins.      These,  be  it 


154  ON  THE  CAM. 

observed,  are  supplied  from  the  grocer's,  outside 
the  college  walls. 

Knock,  —  "  Come  in  "  ;  enter  first  guest,  who 
throws  down  cap  and  gown  in  a  corner,  and  pro- 
ceeds to  warm  himself,  or  look  out  of  the  window. 
Notice  the  court  full  of  strong  men  clad  in  white, 
carrying  heavy  blue  wooden  trays  on  their  heads. 
They  are  the  cook's  men,  bringing  the  breakfasts 
from  the  college  kitchens  to  such  as  order  them. 
Observe,  these  hot  breakfasts,  ordered  from  the 
grocer's  and  kitchens,  are  exceptional  affairs  ;  gen- 
erally, every  one  contents  himself  with  bread  and 
butter,  from  the  college  butteries,  —  a  different 
place  from  the  kitchens,  —  and  coffee  or  tea  made 
by  himself  in  his  own  rooms.  One  of  these  cooks 
is  seen  approaching  Letter  D.  Then  tramp, 
tramp,  like  the  horse  in  Don  Giovanni, — and 
crash,  —  the  heavy  tray  let  down  on  the  landing. 
Delicately  are  fried  soles,  grilled  fowl,  and  curried 
sausages  extracted  and  set  down  to  warm  before 
the  fire,  where  a  stack  of  plates  has  been  undergo- 
ing that  operation  for  half  an  hour. 

The  rest  of  the  guests  soon  assemble.  They 
are  five  in  all ;  two  in  their  second  year,  like  the 
host,  and  three  freshmen.  Three  freshmen  in- 
vited by  a  second  year  man  !  Yes.  They  are  of 
course  new  to  the  college.  And  having  some  ac- 
quaintance  with  one  of  them,  having  been  to 
school  with  the  brother  of  the  second,  and  hav- 
ing already  met  the  third  at  a  friend's  rooms,  the 


LECTURE   V.  155 

host  thinks  it  his  duty,  as  a  gentleman  and  a  stu- 
dent, to  show  them  this  hospitality  and  every  atten- 
tion he  can.  For  the  knowledge  how  to  furnish  his 
rooms,  etc.,  a  new-comer  almost  always  depends 
on  a  friend  of  advanced  standing  ;  in  a  great  meas- 
ure his  only  acquaintances,  except  his  schoolfel- 
lows, for  many  weeks,  are  older  men,  and  in  short, 
throughout  his  freshman  rear,  an  undergraduate 
looks  to  those  of  the  years  above  him  for  assist- 
ance, advice,  and  attention  of  every  kind. 

Young  men  of  Harvard  !  Do  you  recognize 
such  a  picture  ?  Does  a  new  comer  to  your  col- 
lege, — just  leaving  home,  just  fresh  from  school, 
just  quitting  boyhood,  thrown  into  a  strange  place, 
with  a  journey  to  pursue,  a  way  to  make  he  knows 
nothing  of,  among  new  faces,  new  scenes,  new  oc- 
cupations, —  does  he  find  advice,  assistance,  atten- 
tions, friendship  from  those  in  the  year  above  him? 
Do  they  seek  him  out  on  a  slight  acquaintance,  and 
endeavor  to  make  his  path  easier?  I  am  ready  to 
hide  my  fare  with  shame,  when  I  think  of  the  con- 
tract. I  am  almost  ready  to  renounce  my  coun- 
trymen, when  I  think  how  I,  and  a  hundred 
freshmen  with  me,  and  ten  thousand  before  and 
after,  have  been  received  at  Cambridge  and  Ox- 
ford by  men  belonging  to  the  nation,  whose  shv- 
ness  and  indisposition  to  court  acquaintance  lias 
grown  into  a  proverb.  For  I  remember,  I  see 
now  the  despicable  substitute  at  our  own  colleges, 
for   this   truly   gentlemanly,   noble,    Christian    be- 


156  ON  THE   CAM. 

havior.  I  see  the  laws  of  politeness,  of  decency, 
of  the  land  itself,  habitually  broken  ;  sometimes 
ludicrously,  sometimes  tragically,  but  never  from 
any  better  motive,  than  that  which,  beyond  the 
college  walls,  condemns  the  character  of  a  man  in 
any  society,  fondness  for  practical  joking.  I  have 
seen  this  silly,  cowardly,  blackguardly  practice, 
known  at  one  college  or  another  by  some  miser- 
able cant  name,  carried  out  year  after  year  in 
one  form  or  another,  any  one  of  which  practised 
three  miles  from  college  would  subject  its  perpe- 
trator to  fine  and  imprisonment ;  and  practised  on 
the  most  defenceless,  the  most  inexperienced,  the 
most  timid  of  the  academic  community,  and  be- 
cause they  are  defenceless,  inexperienced,  and 
timid,  not  because  they  have  raised  a  finger  to 
provoke  a  single  insult  or  outage. 

And  yet  our  colleges  claim  to  surpass  the  com- 
munity in  a  high  tone  of  feeling, — yet  our  stu- 
dents fill  pages  of  a  magazine,  and  spout  reams  of 
verses  about  "generosity,"  "kindliness,"  "the  no- 
bility of  the  student  character,"  and  they  leave  their 
debating  society,  where  these  fine  sentiments  have 
been  applauded  to  the  echo,  to  indulge  the  pleas- 
ures of  a  baby,  after  the  manner  of  a  New  York 
fireman.  And  I  put  together  the  two  pictures  of 
English  and  American  students,  and,  with  all  my 
love  for  Harvard,  my  heart  sinks  in  despair. 

And  yet,  not  so ;  for  I  do  believe  the  time  will 
come  when  this  shall  be  done  away  with  ;  I  believe 


LECTURE   V.  1.57 

there  are  to  be  students  of  our  colleges,  who,  when 
they  have  ended  their  OAvn  course  as  freshmen, 
will  begin  a  new  era  of  protection,  of  generosity, 
of  friendship,  to  their  successors.  If  such  there 
are,  as  I  fervently  trust  there  may  be,  within  the 
sound  of  my  voice,  let  me  urge  them,  as  their  sin- 
cere friend,  as  the  friend  of  our  common  college,  as 
the  friend  of  our  dear  countrv,  no  longer,  no  longer 
to  let  the  students  of  an  English  University  surpass 
them  in  manliness,  in  rrenerositv,  in  courao-e.* 

But  we  have  allowed  our  friends  plenty  of  time 
to  eat  their  breakfast,  and  the  time  is  getting  near 
ten.  On  ordinary  days,  our  friend  would  go  to 
Lecture  at  this  hour ;  but  it  is  Saturday,  a  fact 
sufficientlv  shown  by  the  freshmen  being-  disen- 
gaged  at  nine,  they  having  two  hours'  lecture, 
from  nine  to  eleven,  five  days  in  the  week.  So, 
his  friends  slipping  away  one  by  one  (but  not  be- 
fore the  large  pewter  mug  of  ale,  with  its  glass 
bottom,  has  gone  round),  he  secures  another  good 
pull  at  Plato,  and  then  goes  to  his  private  tutor  in 
the  next  college,  that  of  St.  John's.  You  have  not 
missed  much  by  not  going  into  Lecture.  It  is 
held  in  a  large;  bare  room,  with  benches,  and  long 
tables  covered  with  green  baize.  The  students,  in 
their  gowns,  in  numbers  varying  from  fifteen  to 
one  hundred  and  fiftv,  are  seated  ;  and  the  lecturer 
stands  behind  a  desk,  whence   he  discourses  most 

*  Some  further  discussion  of  this  point  will  he  found  in  the 
Appendix. 


158  ON  THE   CAM. 

abstrusely  on  some  author,  or  branch  of  mathe- 
matics. Freshmen  are  occasionally  asked  to  trans- 
late or  demonstrate  ;  the  other  years  never.  The 
lectured  may  take  notes,  or  not,  if  they  like. 

Our  friend  has  by  this  time  got  to  St.  John's 
College.  He  finds  his  tutor,  a  gentleman  of  about 
the  age  and  standing  of  his  late  whist-entertainer. 
He  looks  over  and  corrects  the  verses  of  last  night, 
and  gives  our  friend  a  model  translation,  either  his 
own,  or  not,  as  the  case  may  be.  The  Plato  is 
then  gone  over  for  the  rest  of  the  hour,  occasion- 
ally interspersed  by  general  conversation.  Eleven 
o'clock  strikes.  Our  friend  rises  to  go.  "  Will 
you  give  me  another  piece  of  composition,  sir  ?  " 
"  O,  yes  ;  Greek  prose  this  time  ;  is  n't  it  ?  " 
"  Yes,  sir."  Out  comes  a  piece  of  Butler's  Anal- 
ogy, enough  to  make  one  turn  blue  :  full  of  all 
sorts  of  technical  metaphysical  words.  "  There, 
you  '11  find  that  very  good  to  put  into  Aristotelian 
Greek."  Our  friend  takes  it,  quite  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  off  to  Trinity  again  ;  he  wants  to  con- 
sult a  book  in  the  college  library,  —  not  that  of 
the  University,  —  and  thither  repairs. 

This  library  is  over  the  west  end  of  the  clois- 
ters, in  a  beautiful  building,  built  by  Sir  Christopher 
Wren,  of  variegated  red  and  yellow  stone.  The 
vestibule  and  staircase  are  full  of  choice  inscrip- 
tions, etc.  The  library  hall  itself  is  a  fine  room, 
well  lighted,  with  high  windows  right  and  left, 
book-cases  up  and  down  each  side,  and  the  floor 


LECTURE   V.  159 

laid  in  black  and  white  mosaic,  wherein,  by  the 
way,  the  chapel  resembles  it.  At  the  south  end  is 
Thorwaldsen's  beautiful  statue  of  Byron,  which 
the  dean  and  chapter  refused  to  admit  into 
Westminster  Abbey.  Around  in  the  room  are 
various  curiosities  connected  with  eminent  sons 
of  Trinity,  —  Byron's  first  letter,  Newton's  tele- 
scope, Porson's  Greek  writings,  and,  most  precious 
of  all,  Milton's  original  manuscripts  of  "  Lycidas 
and  Comus,"  and  the  original  draught  for  a  trage- 
dy  on  the  subject  of  "  Paradise  Lost."  There  are 
also  several  fine  busts,  of  Bentley,  Barrow,  New- 
ton, Coke,  and  other  great  sons  of  Cambridge. 
Here  our  student  remains,  keeping  his  cap  on,  for 
the  library  is  cold.  His  object  is  to  consult  some 
old  scholarship  examination  papers,  to  see  what 
sort  of  things  he  is  likely  to  get  in  the  grand  trial 
next  April.  As  he  expects  to  have  something 
else  to  do  this  afternoon,  he  concludes  to  make  his 
daily  visit  to  the  Union  now,  so  he  returns  to  his 
room,  exchanges  cap  and  gown  for  a  straw  hat 
with  a  blue  ribbon,  and  sallies  out  to  his  news- 
papers. 

The  remaining  morning  hours  pass  glibly  away 
in  study,  making  a  few  calls,  etc.  And  two 
(/clock  arrives.  Farewell  all  literary  work,  either 
for  pleasure  or  profit.  The  hour  for  exercise  has 
come,  and  rare  indeed  is  he  who  violates  the 
Cambridge  tradition  of  two  hours'  exercise  before 
dinner.      So   lie    turns    out    of   Green   Street   into 


160  ON   THE   CAM. 

Trinity  Street  again,  past  the  gray  front  of  Cains 
and  the  gate  of  Humility,  past  St.  Michael's  and 
St.  Mary's  Churches,  the  Senate  House  and  the 
Schools,  and  turns  towards  King's  College,  where 
he  will  find  a  companion  for  a  seven-mile  walk  or 
more.  As  he  enters  the  gate  he  stops,  as  he  has 
stopped  a  hundred  times,  to  gaze  on  the  glorious 
chapel.  I  am  willing  that  a  thousand  Oxford 
graduates  should  write  books  to  prove  that  King's 
College  Chapel  is  all  wrong — that  it  extinguishes 
the  Lamp  of  Truth  (spelt  with  a  big  T)  —  and 
that  it  looks  like  a  dining-table  turned  upside  down. 
If  so,  all  I  can  say  is,  "  Malo  errare  cum  Platone ; " 
I  'd  rather  be  wrong  with  King's  Chapel  than  right 
against  it.  The  lamp  of  Truth  deserves  to  be  ex- 
tinguished in  the  blazing  sunlight  of  beauty  and 
grandeur,  and  a  dining-table  turned  upside  down 
turns  out  a  much  handsomer  object  than  I  had 
supposed.  Still  every  visitor  to  Cambridge  stops 
astounded  before  this  grand  mass  of  masonry  that 
bears  its  heavy  stone  roof  unshaken  to  the  sky, 
and  uplifts  its  heaven-kissing  pinnacles  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet.  Still  every  child  of  Cam- 
bridge walks  in  delight  before  its  peerless  beauty 
by  day,  and  trembles  in  its  awful  shadow  at  night, 
and  still  every  traveller  on  the  rising  ground  for 
miles  away,  sees  looming  up  before  him,  sparkling 
like  silver  in  the  sunlight,  the  majestic  proportions 
of  the  fairest  temple  in  England. 

Our  two  friends  have  met.      They  walk  briskly 


LECTURE   V.  161 

down  Trumpington  Street,  past  half  a  dozen  col- 
leges, Catharine  and  Corpus  and  Pembroke  and 
Peterhouse,  past  the  Fitzwilliam  Museum  and  the 
Addenbrooke's  Hospital,  past  old  Hobson's  Conduit 
and  the  Botanic  Garden,  and  out  upon  the  Lon- 
don road, —  they  leave  it  at  the  well-known  cor- 
ner, turn  through  the  Trumpington  lanes  and  past 
Chaucer's  mill,  and  accomplish  a  good  long  round 
of  over  six  miles  at  least,  in  time  for  a  stroll  in  the 
"backs"  before  dinner.  This  name  is  applied  to 
the  walks  along  the  river  in  the  rear  of  St.  John's, 
Trinity,  Clare,  King's,  and  Queens'  Colleges. 
There  is  nothing  of  the  kind  lovelier  in  England. 
The  velvet  turf,  —  the  ancestral  elms  and  hoary  lin- 
dens, —  the  long  vistas  of  the  ancient  avenues,  — 
the  quiet  river,  —  its  shelving  banks  filled  with  loi- 
terers, its  waters  studded  with  a  scene  of  gay  boats, 
and  crossed  by  light,  graceful  stone  bridges  ;  the 
old  halls  of  gray  or  red  or  yellow  rising  here  and 
there,  —  the  windows  peeping  out  from  among  the 
trees,  and  the  openings  into  the  old  court-yard 
with  their  presage  of  monastic  ease  and  learning, 
—  the  lofty  pinnacles  of  King's  Chapel  o'ertopping 
all;  —  there  is  no  such  scene  of  repose  and  of 
beauty  in  Oxford  or  any  other  place  of  education. 
As  our  friends  stroll  about  there,  resting  from  the 
lively  discussion  with  which  their  walk  has  been 
beguiled,  new  love  for  the  home  of  their  youth 
arises  in  their  hearts,  and  new  vows  are  inter- 
changed for  its  defence.      I  do  not  believe  a  single 


162  ON   T1IE   CAM. 

student  ever  paeecl  under  these  ancient  trees  with- 
out some  word  of  praise  bursting  from  his  lips 
for  the  beauty  and  glory  of  dear  old  Cambridge. 
But  the  watches  point  to  four,  and  the  friends 
part,  the  Kingsman  to  chapel  and  our  acquaintance 
to  dinner,  and  we  wish  him  a  good  appetite  and 
the  first  cut  of  the  mutton. 


VI. 


LIFE  OF  AN  UNDERGRADUATE.  —  EXCEPTIONAL. 

Length  of  the  College  Course.  —  Vacation.  —  Taking  the 
Degkek.  —  Discipline.  —  Sundays.  —  Clubs  and  Associa- 
tions.—  Ckicket  and  Rowing. —  Description  of  a  Boat- 
Kace.  —  Trinity  Boat  Song. 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen  :  — 

In  my  last  lecture  I  put  before  you  such  a  pic- 
ture as  can  be  drawn  in  the  space  of  an  hour,  of 
the  daily  life  of  an  undergraduate  at  one  of  the 
principal  colleges  in  Cambridge  University.  In 
order,  however,  that  you  should  approximate  to  a 
correct  idea  of  this  part  of  my  subject,  I  must  first 
offer  an  explanation  of  some  technicalities  occur- 
ring in  the  description,  and  secondly,  call  your  at- 
tention to  some  special  scenes  of  student  life,  not 
occurring  in  the  course  of  every  day  routine. 

And  first :  how  long  is  this  life  led  bv  the  un- 
dergraduate ?  The  University  year  begins  on  the 
1st  of  October,  with  the  first  or  Michaelmas  term. 
This  is  said  to  divide  at  noon  of  the  8th  of  Novem- 
ber. This  is  of  course  inerelv  a  nominal  process. 
Jiut  instances  have  been  known  of  inexperienced 
youths  ascending  the  Castle  Hill  to  see  the  term 
divide.      The  term  ends  on  the  lt>th  of  December. 


164  ON  THE   CAM. 

The  second  or  Lent  term  begins  on  the  15th  of 
January,  divides  on  the  14th  of  February,  and 
ends  on  the  18th  of  March.  The  third,  or  Easter 
term,  begins  on  the  1st  of  April,  divides  on  the 
13th  of  May,  and  ends  on  the  24th  of  June.  The 
Commencement  is  on  the  21st  of  June,  and  all 
the  year  between  the  end  of  one  term  and  the  be- 
ginning of  the  next  is  vacation.  But  the  Ameri- 
can  and  English  ideas  of  term  and  vacation  by  no 
means  coincide.  In  the  first  place,  the  University 
is  going  on  more  or  less  all  the  time.  The  library 
is  open,  the  museums  and  public  buildings  may  be 
inspected  freely.  Various  important  religious  and 
academic  ceremonies  are  performed  in  vacation. 
In  particular,  if  there  is  to  be  any  scientific  con- 
vention at  Cambridge,  or  any  installation  of  a 
Chancellor,  —  always  a  very  imposing  ceremony, 
—  the  effort  is  generally  to  have  it  in  vacation, 
that  the  students  being  away,  their  rooms  may  be 
used  for  the  occupation  of  the  honored  guests. 
This  is  a  curious  phase  in  English  University  life, 
residting  from  the  large  part  of  the  year  in  which 
rooms  are  unoccupied.  Whenever  a  stranger  ar- 
rives to  receive  the  hospitality  of  Cambridge,  the 
first  effort  of  his  University  friend  makes  is  to  get 
him  a  suite  of  rooms  in  college,  which  the  tutor  has 
a  right  to  let  him  have,  in  the  absence  of  the  regu- 
lar  occupant,  his  prohibition  to  the  contrary  not- 
withstanding. 

Again,  a  great  many  of  the  most  important  ex- 


LECTURE   VI.  165 

aminations  are  held  in  vacation.  And  this  again 
is  intentional,  in  order  that  the  young  men  may 
not  be  interrupted  in  their  regular  courses  of  lec- 
tures, nor  the  examiners  in  the  performances  of 
their  other  duties  in  college  or  University,  by  hav- 
ing to  attend  an  examination.  And  the  result  is 
very  pleasant.  For  hereby  those  are  attracted  to 
Cambridge,  at  the  time  when  others  are  absent, 
who  have  this  one  object  to  pursue,  and  each  is 
sure  of  seeing  none  but  those  who  are  sympathiz- 
ing to  the  full  with  his  trials. 

It  might  be  then  hard  to  say  wherein  consisted 
the  difference  between  term  and  vacation.  I  pre- 
sume if  this  question  were  actually  put  to  an  offi- 
cial martinet  at  Cambridge,  he  would  be  greatly 
scandalized,  and  reply  with  some  academic  techni- 
cality, making  the  matter  no  clearer.  But  in  gen- 
eral the  distinction  may  be  stated  to  be,  that  the 
vacations  are  times  when  all  college  and  Univer- 
sity lectures  are  intermitted.  The  regular  college 
life,  the  hall  and  the  chapel,  go  on  the  same,  at 
least  in  the  large  colleges  ;  the  students  and  offi- 
cials come  and  go,  and  in  the  winter  vacations 
there  is  not  much  less  liveliness  in  the  town. 
And  this  long  period  of  nominal  vacation,  amount- 
ing to  nearly  thirty  weeks  in  the  year,  is  practical- 
lv  even  longer.  The  University  considers  a  term 
sufficiently  kept,  as  the  term  is,  by  two  thirds  resi- 
dence,—  the  college  prescribe  in  what  part  of  the; 
term  this  two  thirds  is  to  be  taken,  and  how  much 


16G  ON   THE   CAM. 

more  residence  they  will  require  of  their  members 
for  their  own  purposes  of  discipline.  So  that,  in 
fact,  any  undergraduate  may  comply  with  all  the 
requirements  in  the  way  of  residence,  and  only  be 
in  Cambridge  twenty-two  weeks  in  the  whole  year, 
or  less.  And  though  the  colleges-  may  keep  a  mem- 
ber for  purposes  of  discipline  from  the  first  to  the 
last  day  of  term,  nobody  can  be  compelled  to  re- 
main a  day  in  vacation. 

But  this  is  the  minimum  ;  such  an  immense 
amount  of  vacation  is  much  more  than  any  of 
the  studious  desire.  In  fact,  it  would  be  impossi- 
ble to  get  any  adequate  preparation,  for  the  final 
examinations,  in  only  twenty  weeks  of  study  a 
year.  Accordingly,  the  hard  students  are  exceed- 
ingly apt  to  drop  up*  to  Cambridge  some  days  be- 
fore their  attendance  is  required,  and  to  stay  after 
the  rest  have  run  down.  They  have  their  rooms 
and  meals  ;  their  private  tutors  are  generally  quite 
ready  to  begin  with  them  ;  they  are  not  required 
to  attend  Lectures,  or  chapel ;  and  they  have  that 
great  promoter  of  success  in  study,  —  quiet.  The 
summer  vacation,  in  particular,  which  practically 
lasts  from  the  beginning  of  the  second  week  in 
June  to  the  middle  of  October,  is  far  too  loner  for 
any  one  to  pass  in  idleness.  It  is  habitually  spent 
in  two  ways.  One  is,  to  make  up  a  reading  party. 
A  number  of  undergraduates,  from  four  to  ten, 
engage   some  tutor,   and,   in   some   cases   of  very 

*   Authority  fur  this  phrase,  Horace  Walpole. 


LECTUEE    VI.  167 

large  parties,  two,  who  then  pick  out  a  pleasant, 
but  not  too  pleasant,  place  to  pass  the  summer. 
Scotland,  the  Lake  District,  Wales,  the  southern 
Counties,  Brittany,  and  the  Tyrol,  are  all  favorite 
resorts  for  these  reading  parties.  Sometimes,  no 
tutor  accompanies  them  ;  but,  in  all  cases,  their 
plan,  I  am  bound  to  say,  faithfully  carried  out  by 
almost  all,  is,  to  pass  six  or  eight  hours  of  each 
day  in  study,  and  the  remainder  in  athletic  pur- 
suits. But  a  large  number  prefer  at  once  to  make 
a  fourth  term  out  of  the  long  vacation.  They  re- 
turn to  Cambridge  early  in  July,  and  remain  till 
the  end  of  August,  or  the  beginning  of  September, 
reading  for  dear  life  with  their  private  tutors. 
There  are  such  unnumbered  facilities  for  study, 
and  so  little  for  anything  else,  in  the  "  Long,"  as 
it  is  called,  that  you  have  to  study  hard  to  keep 
yourself  from  dying  of  ennui,  even  though  at- 
tempts are  made  at  Shakespeare  clubs,  boat  and 
cricket  matches,  etc.  In  fact,  it  is  so  desirable  a 
place  for  a  student  in  arrears,  that  the  authorities 
at  the  larger  colleges  are  obliged  to  restrict  the 
undergraduates  from  residing  in  the  long  vacation, 
and  make  it  a  special  privilege,  consequent  on  ob- 
taining high  rank  in  the  examination  in  May. 
Observe  further,  that  the  foundation  scholars  of 
the  college  have  a  right  to  stay  at  Cambridge  in  va- 
cation as  well  as  term  time,  and  to  demand  rooms 
and  meals,  in  virtue  of  King  Henry  VIII. 's  will. 
Of  these   terms,  be   they  longer  or  shorter,  the 


108  ON   THE   CAM. 

University  requires  nine  to  be  kept,  as  the  phrase 
is,  before  any  one  can  receive  a  degree,  and  if  it  is 
a  degree  in  honors,  the  candidate  must  have  begun 
his  residence  in  the  tenth  term  preceding  the  ex- 
amination. And  as  we  have  so  often  alluded  to 
taking  the  degree,  let  us  have  an  ocular  demon- 
stration of  the  process  of  taking  a  degree,  —  the 
operation  to  which  the  thoughts  of  nearly  every 
underoraduate  are  turned  a  thousand  times  in  his 
career.  Let  us  suppose,  then,  that  we  have  a 
friend  whose  name  has  been  announced  as  having 
successfully  passed  some  examination,  it  makes 
little  difference  which,  in  virtue  whereof  he  is  en- 
titled to  a  degree.  The  first  thing  you  may  be 
sure,  considering  the  scene  is  laid  in  a  University, 
and  that  an  English  one,  is  to  pay,  and  pay  well. 
The  proctors,  as  representing  the  University,  re- 
ceive a  handsome  sum  from  every  expectant  bach- 
elor for  the  University  chest,  as  the  treasury  is 
called.  The  college  dues  amount  to  about  three 
pounds  more.  His  next  business  is  to  order  the 
peculiar  insignia  of  a  Bachelor  of  Arts,  —  the  black 
gown  with  its  ribbons  dangling  in  front,  and  the 
long;  black  hood  with  its  swan's-down  trimming. 
He  will  also  add  a  clergyman's  bands,  as  a  neces- 
sary part  of  full  academic  costume,  if  he  have  not 
already  procured  them  for  some  other  public  occa- 
sion. The  hood  he  will  throw  on  over  his  under- 
graduate's gown,  —  the  black  gown  he  will  intrust 
to  his  bedmaker,  and  so  arrayed  will   make   his 


LECTURE   VI.  169 

way  to  the  Senate-House.  The  galleries  are  filled 
with  undergraduates,  and  the  body  of  the  hall  be- 
low by  officials  and  spectators  of  all  kinds,  and  by 
the  candidates  themselves,  often  far  exceeding  a 
hundred  in  number.  As  there  is  a  good  deal  of 
waiting  on  all  such  public  occasions  at  Cambridge, 
the  undergraduates  in  the  gallery  proceed  to 
amuse  themselves  by  cheering.  This,  as  well  as 
hissing,  is  commonly  carried  to  a  perfectly  insane 
extent,  beyond  all  bounds  of  authority.  Proceed- 
ings are  usually  opened  as  soon  as  the  galleries 
are  pretty  well  filled,  with  "  Three  cheers  for  the 
Queen."  Given  vociferously.  Before  any  one 
can  call  anything  else,  somebody  is  observed  below 
who  has  not  taken  oft'  his  cap  at  the  instant  of  en- 
tering. "  Cap,  cap,  cap,  cap,  cap,"  is  at  once  the 
cry,  and  this  is  kept  up  till  it  is  taken  off.  "  Three 
cheers  for  Lord  Derby."  "  Hurrah,  hurrah,"  or 
rather  "  Hurray,"  the  English  form  of  a  cheer. 
A  few  groans  attempted  by  some  liberal,  who  fur- 
ther proceeds  to  "  Three  cheers  for  Lord  Palmer- 
ston."  A  few  spirited  cheers,  and  good  many 
groans,  which,  however,  is  nothing  to  the  bear- 
garden of  growls  that  replies  to  the  call  of  "  Three 
groans  for  John  Bright."  Three  cheers  for  some- 
thing or  other  is  drowned  in  "  Cap,  cap,  cap," 
"  Hat,  hat,  hat."  A  pause,  for  an  instant,  the  in- 
dividual summoned  obstinately  refusing  to  remove 
his  cap,  when  one  of  the  proctors'  attendants, 
whom    I   have   already  introduced    to   vou  as  bull- 


170  ON   THE   CAM. 

dogs,  appears  below.  "  Stuboy,  Boning,  row,  row. 
Take  his  cap  off;  bite  him,  Boning,  —  please  re- 
move  your   cap,    sir,"    etc.     "  Three    cheers   for 

,"  in  a  feeble  voice.     u  What  is  it,  sir,  speak 

up."  "  Three  cheers  for  the  Bishop  of  Oxford." 
Violent  acclamations.  The  chief  church  dirniitarv 
in  the  Sandwich  Islands  having  recently  addressed 
a  large  meeting  in  Cambridge,  was  once  irrev- 
erently summoned  with  "  Three  cheers  for  the 
Bishop  of  Hullabaloo."  I  once  heard  the  United 
States  called  for  in  the  course  of  the  last  three 
years,  wdien  it  was  drowned  with  laughter,  and  calls 
of  the  "  Disunited  States" ;  and  a  proposal  of  cheers 
for  the  Confederates  was  received  with  equal  de- 
rision. A  few  more  persons,  obnoxious  or  honored, 
are  clamored  for,  when  a  loud  burst  of  cheering 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  Senate- 
House,  calls  our  attention  to  a  somewhat  singular 
procession  that  is  walking  in.  Most  of  its  members 
appear  as  ordinary  Masters  of  Arts,  in  black  gowns 
with  white  and  black  hoods  thrown  over  them,  — 
but  the  procession  is  headed  by  one,  who,  in  addi- 
tion to  this  garb,  bears  an  enormous  silver  mace, 
looking  very  like  a  gigantic  poker,  and  so  usually 
denominated. 

There  are  three  of  these  mace-bearers,  known 
as  the  esquire  bedells,  who  enclose  a  reverend- 
looking  gentleman  in  a  scarlet  gown  and  ermine 
tippet.  This  is  the  Vice-Chancellor,  the  head  of 
the   University,  and  in  all  cases  the  greatest  man 


LECTURE    VI.  171 

there,  except  when  the  Chancellor  himself  takes 
it  into  his  head,  which  is  very  seldom,  to  come 
down  and  administer.  The  Vice-Chancellor  is 
chosen  from  the  masters  of  the  colleges  annually, 
on  the  oth  of  November,  and  goes  out  of  office  on 
the  4th.  So  that  on  the  day  of  election  there  is 
no  one  in  office,  —  but  two  proctors  are  considered 
as  equal  to  one  Vice-Chancellor,  and  get  together 
bodily  into  his  chair  to  preside  at  his  election. 
This,  as  all  other  elections  of  University  officers, 
is  by  the  body  of  the  Masters  and  Doctors,  called 
the  Senate,  —  the  general  affairs  being  managed 
by  a  smaller  body  called  the  Council,  who  propose 
all  measures  to  be  acted  upon  by  the  Senate,  the 
enacting  measure  being  called  a  Grace  of  the  Sen- 
ate.  The  night  of  the  Vice-Chancellor's  election 
being  also  the  old  day  of  the  celebration  of  Gun- 
powder Plot,  was  formerly  celebrated  at  Cam- 
bridge by  the  town  and  gown  riots.  I  cannot 
say  these  are  absolutely  extinct.  The  townspeo- 
ple, who  have  nothing  else  to  do,  come  out  a  good 
deal.  A  certain  number  of  students  also  come 
out  and  walk  up  and  down  the  streets,  whore  pas- 
sago  is  generally  freely  conceded,  though  very  op- 
probrious remarks  are  hoard  right  and  left.  1  have 
tramped  through  a  town  and  gown  row  so  called, 
and  it'  1  had  desired  a  pugilistic  encounter  of  any 
kind,  1  should  have  had  to  seek  it. 

The  Vice-Chancellor,    by   this  time,  has   taken 
his  seat  in  the  Senate-House.      One  of  the  esquire 


172  ON   THE   CAM. 

bedells  has  the  lists  of  candidates  in  his  hand. 
The  undergraduates  are  ushered  forward  by  some 
fellow  of  their  college,  who  is  called  "the  lather," 
and  presents  his  "  sons  "  in  squads  of  six  or  eight. 
If  the  Senior  Wrangler  or  Senior  Classic  is  to  take 
his  degree,  he  is  led  up  alone,  by  himself,  amid 
most  vociferous  cheering.  What  the  students  are 
supposed  to  do  when  they  are  thus  led  up  I  don't 
know.  The  father  says  something  in  Latin,  —  I 
believe  to  the  effect  that  he  presents  to  the  Vice- 
Chancellor  this  youth,  whom  he  knows  as  well  in 
morals  as  in  learning  to  be  a  proper  person  for  re- 
ceiving the  degree  of  B.  A.  Formerly,  they  were 
required  to  take  the  oaths  of  allegiance  and  supre- 
macy. They  are  then  directed  to  one  side,  —  and 
the  real  process  of  conferring  degrees  begins.  They 
take  their  station  in  a  long  queue,  and  come  up  to 
the  Vice-Chancellor  one  by  one,  first  laying  down 
their  caps  on  the  floor,  and  then  kneeling  on  the 
floor  themselves.  They  fold  the  palms  of  their 
hands  together,  and  the  Vice-Chancellor  takes 
them  between  his,  and  pronounces  a  Latin  for- 
mula, giving  them  all  the  rights,  privileges,  etc., 
pertaining  to  the  degree  of  bachelor  of  arts,  "  in 
the  name  of  the  Father  and  of  the  Son  and  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,"  raising  his  cap  before  the  sacred 
names.  They  rise,  turn  away,  and  the  operation 
is  complete.  No  part,  no  preacher's  gown,  no 
diploma.  As  they  go  out,  the  bedmaker  is  in 
readiness  to  exchange  the  undergraduate's  for  the 


LECTURE   VI.  173 

bachelor's  gown,  and  to  appropriate  the  former,  in 
connection  with  a  pound  sterling.  "  It 's  the 
custom,  sir.  All  the  gentlemen  does  it,  sir. 
It  's  the  bedmaker's  perquisites,  sir,"  is  all  the 
explanation  I  ever  heard  to  be  given,  —  and  this 
is  about  all  the  explanation  given  for  anything 
at  Cambridge. 

The  aire  for  taking  the  bachelor's  degree  is  be- 
tween  twenty-two  and  twenty-three.  In  giving 
the  list  of  American  errors  with  reference  to  Eng- 
lish Universities,  I  believe  I  included  the  idea  that 
the  students  were  six  or  eight  years  older  than 
ours.  As  a  point  of  fact,  they  are  about  two 
years  older.  My  own  class  at  Harvard,  of  ninety 
members,  averaged  exactly  twenty-one  years  and 
six  months  of  age  on  graduation.  I  was  twenty 
years  old  myself  on  the  day  I  entered  Trinity,  and 
I  could  find  no  one  of  my  own  year  in  college  that 
was  not  younger,  and  a  great  many  in  the  year 
above  me  were  younger  also.  I  ought,  perhaps, 
to  have  said  something  about  the  ceremony  of  en- 
trance ;  but  there  is  so  little  ceremony  that  I  had 
forgotten  it.  The  college  being  selected,  applica- 
tion is  made  to  the  tutor ;  in  a  large  college  the 
particular  tutor  must  be  selected  also.  He  will 
formally  receive  the  undergraduate,  and  receive 
also  a  certain  sum  of  money  as  matriculation  fees, 
and  another  larger  called  ''caution  money,"'  de- 
posited like  our  bond,  as  a  security  for  the  pay- 
ment of  college  dues,  and  returned  when  all  con- 


174  ON  THE   CAM. 

nection  with  the  University  ceases.  In  some 
colleges  there  is  an  examination  for  admission,  in 
others  not ;  hut  whether  there  is  or  not,  you  he- 
gin  residence  and  attendance  on  lectures,  etc.  at 
once,  and  are  told,  not  if  you  have  passed  the 
examination,  hut  if  you  have  not.  Anyhow,  you 
need  not  he  troubled  ;  you  can  tiy  two  or  three 
times  more  hefore  the  year  ends,  and  each  time 
the  examination  is  easier.  The  fact  is,  at  the  small 
colleges  they  are  only  too  glad  to  get  any  under- 
graduates, and  at  the  large  ones  the  college  ex- 
aminations will  soon  weed  out  all  the  poor  ones. 
The  means  of  discipline  are  elaborate  and  pecu- 
liar. A  certain  amount  of  attendance  at  chapel 
and  lecture  is  required  ;  and,  if  not  complied  with, 
a  graduated  series  of  scoldings,  rising  from  a  sim- 
pie  printed  notice,  filled  up  with  a  name,  as  fol- 
lows :  "  Everett,  Junior  Soph.,  irregular  in  his  at- 
tendance at  chapel,  admonished  hy  the  Junior 
Dean"  ; — I  did  get  one  such  notice  once,  —  up 
through  personal  interviews  with  the  Deans,  Tutor, 
Master,  and  Body  of  Fellows.  By  this  time,  an 
undergraduate  so  persistently  irregular  will  prob- 
ably have  brought  matters  to  a  crisis  by  some 
other  more  flagrant  act,  and  be  obliged  to  leave 
the  college.  Repeated  absence  from  lecture  is 
generally  punished  by  "gating,"  that  is,  confining 
a  student  to  the  inside  of  the  gate  of  his  college, 
or  street  door  of  his  lodging-house,  at  an  earlier 
hour  than  usual.     I  have  mentioned  that  after  ten 


LECTURE   VI.  175 

the  gates  are  locked,  and  no  one  can  get  in  with- 
out ringing.  I  should  add  that,  once  in,  no  one 
can  get  out  after  ten,  without  a  special  order  from 
a  fellow.  Furthermore,  no  undergraduate  can 
pass  a  night  out  of  Cambridge  or  out  of  his  own 
rooms  without  special  permission  from  his  tutor ; 
and  in  all  these  cases  the  situation  of  the  porter, 
bedmaker,  or  lodging-house  keeper  is  made  much 
too  valuable,  and  the  watch  kept  upon  them  much 
too  strict,  to  permit  more  than  a  very  rare  infringe- 
ment indeed  of  these  rules.  Any  college  windows 
that  may  look  on  the  street  are  barred  in  the  two 
lower  stories,  to  prevent  egress,  and  every  college 
is  surrounded  with  high  walls,  ditches,  or  iron 
fences  bristling  with  a  most  dreadful  array  of 
spikes.  I  have  often  stood  at  some  of  these  and 
contemplated  the  possibility  of  getting  out,  and 
have  been  forced  to  acknowledge  that  it  is  out  of 
the  question. 

Pecuniary  fines,  of  small  amount,  are  also  very 
much  resorted  to  ;  they  are,  in  most  cases,  rather 
matters  of  course,  than  penalties,  —  such  as  for  ab- 
sence from  morning  chapel,  —  and  go  to  increase 
the  pay  of  the  servants.  In  some  cases,  neglect,  or 
infringement  of  discipline,  is  punished  by  "losing 
the  week  "  ;  that  is,  if  the  student  has  already  re- 
sided seven  weeks,  some  misdemeanor  will  cause 
the  seven  to  count  only  six,  which  would  compel 
him  to  stay  at  Cambridge  another,  to  make  up  the 
requisite  number  enjoined  in  the  course  of  a  term. 


176  ON   THE  CAM. 

I  have  been  thus  minute  on  these  matters  of 
discipline,  not  in  the  hope  of  making  them  very 
clear,  for  nothing  short  of  some  weeks'  residence 
there  can  effect  that,  but  to  illustrate  the  grand 
principle,  that  college  discipline  has  nothing  to  do 
with  college  rank.  I  remember  one  instance, 
which  will  show  more  than  a  hundred  systematic 
descriptions,  where  a  young  man  wras  so  notoriously 
irregular  in  his  attendance  at  chapel,  that  the  whole 
body  of  his  college  were  determined  to  send  him 
away  for  a  term  ;  but,  as  he  was  expected  to  take 
very  high  rank  in  an  approaching  examination, 
they  allowed  him,  in  consideration  of  that,  to  re- 
main till  the  examination  was  over,  and  then  forced 
him  to  "  go  down  "  at  once. 

Another  point  that  may  be  interesting,  is  the 
variation  adopted  in  this  undergraduate  life  on 
Sunday.  Sunday  is  very  generally  observed  in 
England  ;  but  it  is  beginning  to  get  somewhat  the 
character  which  it  has  in  France.  There  are  long, 
cheap,  slow  trains  running  on  the  railways,  which 
carry  out  the  poorer  classes  of  London,  whose 
hands  have  been  thrilling  and  brows  straining  with 
hard  work,  from  Monday  morning  to  Saturday 
night,  and  pour  them  out  over  the  fields,  to  get 
a  little  taste  of  pure  breezes,  and  expand  the  poor, 
pent-up,  bruised  mind  in  the  light  of  heaven,  and 
the  all-refreshing  air  of  society  and  rest  ;  then 
gather  them  up  again  at  night,  tired  and  happy. 
At  Cambridge,  there    is  a  great  deal  of  church- 


LECTURE   VI.  177 

going.  All  the  college  chapels  have  two,  and 
some  three  services  a  day.  At  some,  there  is  a 
sermon  ;  at  others  not.  It  is,  of  course,  at  all  of 
them  the  service  of  the  Church  of  England.  The 
whole  University  is  supposed  to  go  at  two  o'clock 
to  the  sermon  in  Great  St.  Mary's  Church.  It 
does  not  all  go  by  any  means.  The  reverend 
Master  of  Trinity  has  a  weakness  for  ordering 
such  of  his  own  subjects  as  he  meets,  about  the 
hour  to  go.  This  service  is  peculiar  in  many  re- 
spects. The  floor  of  the  church,  which,  aside  from 
its  being  the  church  of  the  University,  has  its  own 
parish,  is  filled  with  graduates,  the  gallery  with 
undergraduates.  The  clerk  of  the  church  gives 
out  a  portion  of  Tate  and  Brady's  version  of  the 
Psalms ;  this  is  sung  by  one  of  the  college  choirs 
in  attendance.  This  is  followed  by  the  preacher, 
who  is  appointed  for  every  Sunday  and  holy-day,  at 
the  beginning  of  the  year,  and  is  always  a  man  of 
note  ;  he  rises  and  reads  the  bidding  prayer.  This 
is  not  a  prayer  at  all,  but  an  exhortation  to  pray 
for  "  the  whole  state  of  the  Catholic  Church." 
From  this  pretty  general  exordium,  it  proceeds,  by 
virtue  of  a  series  of  especiallys  and  particularlys, 
to  commend  to  the  prayers  of  the  congregation  all 
the  persons  in  England  in  any  way  distinguished 
in  the  Church  or  the  State.  Gradually  working 
his  way  to  the  two  Universities,  the  clergyman 
continues:  "And  herein  for  his  Grace,  William, 
Duke    of    Devonshire,    our    Chancellor  ;    for   the 


178  ON   THE   CAM. 

Right  Worshipful  the  Vice-Chancellor ;  for  the 
professors,  proctors,  and  all  that  bear  authority 
therein.  For  all  particular  colleges  ;  and,  as  in 
private  duty  bound,  I  ask  your  prayers  for  the 
royal  and  religious  foundation  of  Trinity  College  ; 
for  the  reverend  and  learned  the  Master,  the  fel- 
lows, scholars,  and  all  students  in  the  same,"  and 
so  on  ;  till,  at  last,  a  call  to  pray  for  all  the  Com- 
mons of  the  Realm,  and  also  to  praise  God  for  all 
his  mercies,  concludes  this  long  introduction,  to 
which  is  simply  added  the  words  of  the  Lord's 
Prayer ;  and  at  once  every  University  man  in  the 
congregation,  who  are  all  standing,  raises  his  cap 
to  his  face,  which  is  a  sight  described  as  very  im- 
posing ;  whoever  saw  it,  must  have  neglected  to 
raise  his  own  cap,  in  order  to  notice  those  of  others. 
The  sermon,  and  the  ordinary  concluding  prayer 
of  the  English  Church  follow,  the  sermon  being: 
always  intensely  learned,  rather  than  interesting. 

Sunday  is  a  great  day  at  Cambridge  for  very 
long  walks,  often  of  three  or  four  hours'  duration. 
The  boating  men  in  particular,  who  are  steadily 
engaged  on  the  river  every  other  day,  vary  their 
exercise  always  by  a  hard  walk  on  Sunday.  On 
Sunday  afternoon  and  evening,  if  it  is  fine,  the 
whole  town,  University  or  not,  turns  out  into  the 
walks  behind  the  Colleges,  making  a  very  gay  sight. 
Sunday  is  also  a  great  day  for  early  and  long-pro- 
tracted tea-parties  and  social  talks.  I  was  once 
asked    if  the    young  men  were  as  ready   to  talk 


LECTURE   VI.  179 

theology  at  an  English  as  an  American  University. 
Of  ecclesiastical  talk,  the  management  of  religious 
communities,  the  temporal  state  of  the  English 
and  other  churches,  etc.,  there  is  a  great  deal ; 
but  theology  proper,  all  doctrinal  discussions,  they 
are  very  shy  of.  In  fact,  a  Dissenter,  a  person  not 
of  the  Church  of  England,  they  would  n't  dare  to 
argue  with,  and  they  could  n't  with  any  one  else. 

Another  subject  which  is  intimately  connected 
with  the  life  of  the  young  men  at  Cambridge  is  the 
clubs  and-  associations  that  they  form  for  all  man- 
ner of  purposes.  These  are  very  numerous.  That 
kind,  however,  which  is  most  common  in  America, 
namely,  debating  and  library  societies,  is  very  little 
seen  in  Cambridge.  There  is  the  general  Union 
Society  for  the  whole  University.  There  are  also 
one  or  two  minor  societies  for  literary  purposes ; 
but  they  are  either  confined  to  a  very  small  set, 
or  only  brought  into  a  temporary  life  by  a  faw 
stronger  spirits.  Neither  debating  nor  reading 
essays  is  an  English  characteristic. 

There  are  also  various  scientific  societies,  some 
entirely  among  the  undergraduates,  others  patro- 
nized and  strengthened  by  the  presence  of  the 
older  men  in  authority.  There  was  an  entomo- 
logical society  that  used  to  scour  the  plains  and 
downs  near  Cambridge  to  make  "captures,'"  as 
they  said.  You  generally  knew  the  rooms  of  its 
members  by  a  strong  smell  of  laurel-water,  ether, 
or  sulphur,  used  to  kill  the  unfortunate  insects. 


180  ON  THE  CAM. 

There  were  a  great  many  religious  societies  for 
mission  work  of  all  kinds  in  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land. Shortly  before  I  left  Cambridge,  there  was 
a  terrible  squabble  at  the  Union,  because  a  mem- 
ber of  one  of  the  High  Church  societies  had  made 
extensive  use  of  the  Union  writing-paper  and  its 
letter-carrier  to  send  out  circulars  of  his  own  club, 
contrary,  as  might  be  supposed,  to  the  standing 
orders  of  the  Union.  It  was  furiously  discussed, 
and  all  the  High  Church  members  of  the  Union 
voted  for  doing  nothing  to  him,  while  all  the  Broad, 
Low,  or  No  Church  members  wished  him  suspend- 
ed from  the  club  till  he  apologized,  as  was  done.  A 
great  deal  of  very  efficient  work  is  done  among  the 
young  men  in  collecting  subscriptions  for  religious 
and  charitable  objects  throughout  the  country. 

There  are  several  musical  societies  in  Cambridge, 
with  extensive  ramifications  among  the  town's-peo- 
ple.  England  is  becoming  more  and  more  of  a 
musical  country  every  day,  the  works  of  Handel 
and  Mendelssohn  in  particular  being  very  much 
studied.  The  musical  element  was  entirely  too 
strong  for  me.  My  first  set  of  rooms  had  a  piano 
adjoining,  in  fact  against  the  wall,  and  my  second 
had  a  cornet  underneath,  and  several  other  in- 
struments at  hand.  At  present,  the  generosity 
and  tolerance  I  feel  to  persons  of  all  other  tastes 
than  my  own  entirely  vanishes  in  the  case  of  col- 
lege musicians.  The  charms  which  soothe  the 
savage  breast  split  the  studious  brain. 


LECTURE   VI.  181 

There  is  at  Cambridge  a  small,  and  pretty  select 
society  called  the  Athenaeum,  and  modelled  on  the 
London  clubs.  That  is,  it  takes  in  all  the  princi- 
pal periodicals,  has  a  good  library  for  popular  use, 
and  is  a  grand  centre  for  social  gatherings  of  all 
kinds.  It  is  in  fact  the  head-quarters  of  the  aris- 
tocratic, or,  as  truth  compels  it  to  be  called,  the 
fast  element.  It  is  pretty  exclusive  in  its  elec- 
tions, and  also  pretty  expensive.  Its  character 
varies  from  year  to  year,  according  as  those  who 
are  admitted  as  a  matter  of  course  —  all  members 
of  noble  families,  for  instance  —  are  men  of  refined 
tastes  or  the  reverse.  At  the  time  I  entered,  there 
was  just  passing  away  a  generation  of  members 
who  were  an  honor  to  any  community,  and  had 
raised  the  club  very  high  in  the  estimation  of  the 
rest  of  the  University.  Before  I  left,  a  great  many 
very  desirable  members  had  refused  to  join  it,  on 
account  of  the  tastes  and  habits  of  many  of  those 
already  belonging  to  it. 

The  Atheineum  has  under  its  wing  two  or  three 
other  societies  of  kindred  character.  One,  the 
Amateur  Dramatic  Club,  or  A.  D.  C.  as  it  is  com- 
monly called,  gives  excellent  stage  performances, 
open  to  all  the  University,  for  a  lew  nights  in 
every  term.  It  is  fortunate  in  possessing  some 
members  of  very  superior  dramatic  talent,  who, 
though  they  have  long  ceased  to  he  members  of 
the  I  diversity,  make  a  point  of  coming  back  to 
Cambridge  to  act,  and  to  assist  in  developing  the 


182  ON   THK   CAM. 

rising  dramatic  talent.  The  acting  is  generally  ex- 
tremely good,  and  the  society  an  agreeable  one. 

There  are  also  several  dining  clubs,  more  or  less 
composed  of  members  of  the  Athenaeum.  Two  of 
them,  the  True  Blue  and  the  Beefsteak,  are  of  ex- 
treme antiquity,  —  the  True  Blue  members  still 
dine  in  the  dress  of  the  last  century.  The  Beef- 
steak is  governed  by  certain  rules,  doubtless  estab- 
lished to  check  the  profuse  banquets  and  inordinate 
drinking  of  a  hundred  years  ago,  —  viz.,  that  there 
shall  be  no  food  on  the  table  but  beef  in  various 
forms,  and  that  every  member  must  drink  a  bottle 
of  port.  These  rules,  like  the  resolutions  which 
Mr.  Ticknor's  admirable  biography  records  in  the 
college  life  of  Mr.  Prescott,  have  become  an  en- 
couragement to  the  excess  they  sought  to  check. 

Of  all  these  societies  the  Athenseum  is  the  only 
one  that  can  exercise  anything  like  influence.  A 
man  may  get  some  notoriety  in  the  Union,  —  but 
as  anybody  can  belong  to  it,  he  can  obtain  no  pe- 
culiar influence  there  on  outsiders.  In  fact,  most 
students  at  Cambridge  fall  at  once  into  some  line 
or  other,  either  that  of  study,  or  athletics,  or  pleas- 
ure, and  are  then  chosen  into  certain  clubs  as 
matters  of  course.  It  is  only  in  those  very  rare 
cases  of  persons  who  take  up  two  or  more  occupa- 
tions, that  the  societies  can  be  said  to  exert  influ- 
ence outside  themselves.  The  true  type  of  a 
Cambridge  club  is  one  where  a  certain  body  of 
students,  interested  in  one  object,  unite  to  carry 


LECTURE   VI.  183 

out  that  object,  and  are  ready  to  admit  anybody 
■who  cares  for  it  too,  and  want  nobody  who  does 
not.  And  the  perfect  example  of  these  is  in  the 
clubs  for  athletic  sports,  and  chiefly  for  cricket 
and  rowing. 

If  any  one  is  interested  to  see  what  a  nation  can 
do  as  a  nation,  without  any  help  from  another,  let 
him  look  at  the  game  of  cricket  as  played  in  Eng- 
land. I  can  no  more  undertake  to  give  an  ac- 
count of  it  here,  than  I  can  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, or  the  Court  of  King's  Bench.  One  might 
devote  a  course  of  Lowell  Lectures  to  it,  or  write 
a  college  text-book  about  it.  But  I  will  say  to 
you  as  Victor  Cousin  did  to  his  class  about  the 
Buddhists,  —  "I  do  not  speak  of  the  Buddhists, 
gentlemen,  because  I  know  nothing  of  them."  I 
know  nothing  of  cricket.  I  used  to  see  my  friends, 
wearing  caps  and  sleeves  of  all  imaginable  patterns, 
and  was  told  that  they  were  badges  of  the  "  Per- 
ambulators "  or  "  Quidnuncs."  I  saw  them  start  at 
unearthly  hours  in  the  morning,  dressed  principally 
in  flannel,  and  come  back  pretty  late  in  the  after- 
noon, and  hear  that  the  PifHers  had  been  playing 
Itoyston.  I  have  moreover  been  to  one  or  two 
cricket-matches,  and  seen  some  splendid  catches 
at  long-off.  But  of  the  mysteries  of  cricket  and 
cricket  clubs  I  know  very  little.  They  are  very 
numerous  ;  cricket  players  associating  together  for 
all  possible  and  impossible  reasons,  and  the  best 
players  belonging  to  several  clubs  at  once.      They 


184  ON   THE   CAM. 

are  working  hard  all  summer  long,  and  rather  tire 
one  with  their  utter  absorption  in  their  favorite 
sport,  which  to  an  outsider  is  truly  unintelligible. 
But  it  only  lasts  a  few  months  in  the  year,  and 
the  rest  of  the  time  they  can  talk  and  act  ration- 
ally. 

Rowing  is  also  carried  at  Cambridge  to  great 
perfection.  It  is  a  natural  offshoot  from  the  mari- 
time character  of  the  English.  The  best  amateur 
rowing  is  at  the  two  Universities,  and  their  annual 
match  in  April,  in  which  I  regret  to  say  Oxford 
has  now  won  three  years  successively,*  is  a  splen- 
did exhibition  of  river  rowing,  and  pretty  rough 
rowing,  too.  But  as  eyewitness  is  always  better 
than  description,  I  will  ask  you  to  walk  down  with 
me  to  the  last  boat-race  of  the  season  at  Cambridge, 
and  contemplate  what  is  perhaps  the  noblest  of 
athletic  sports  in  its  highest  perfection. 

The  principal  University  boat-races  at  Cam- 
bridge take  place  in  the  month  of  May,  and  surely 
if  the  Argonauts  themselves  were  to  select  a  time 
and  place  for  the  display  of  their  strength,  they 
could  not  choose  better  than  the  Cambridge  May 
term.  Mr.  Warren  Burton  says  that  the  wit  of 
his  district  school  described  the  fun  of  the  winter 
school  term  as  one  long  Thanksgiving  Dav,  minus 
the  sermon,  the  music  and  the  dinner.  One 
might  describe  the  Cambridge  May  term  as  one 
long  Class  Day,  minus  the  literary  exercises,  the 

*   Now,  alns,  five!  (1805). 


LECTURE   VI.  185 

dancing  and  the  cheering.  An  army  of  amazons 
take  Cambridge  by  storm  in  the  month  of  May, 
and  gray  old  Alma  Mater  puts  on  her  best  di-ess, 
and  sets  her  best  parlor  in  order  to  receive  her 
guests.  But  of  all  the  attractions  of  that  happy 
season,  there  is  none  more  universally  appreciated 
than  the  boat-races.  We  will  suppose  ourselves 
walking-  down  to  the  last  one  of  the  season.* 

It  begins  at  seven  o'clock,  just  in  the  calm,  clear, 
English  twilight.  We  need  not  fear  that  it  is  too 
soon  after  dinner,  for  the  authorities  fully  respect 
the  value  of  exercise,  and  accommodate  the  boat- 
races  by  instituting  an  early  dinner  at  two  o'clock 
at  this  season.  We  put  on  our  checkered  straw 
hats  with  their  dark-blue  ribbon,  to  show  that  we 
belong  to  the  First  Trinity  boat-club ;  stroll  out  of 
the  great  gate,  past  the  church  where  is  the  mon- 
ument of  poor  Kirke  White,  erected  by  our  late 
distinguished  countryman,  Dr.  Iioott ;  past  the  gate 
of  St.  John's  and  the  Templars'  round  church,  and 
through  a  few  narrow  lanes  to  a  broad  common,  the 
pasture-ground  of  a  hundred  broken-down  horses. 
Our  path  has  been  accompanied  by  crowds  of  men 
in  boating  rig,  broad  flannel  trousers,  heavy 
tanned  leather  low-heeled  shoes,  pea-jacket,  and 
club-hat  or  cap,  making  eagerly  for  the  boat- 
houses.  These  soon  heave  in  sight  on  the  farther 
bank  of  the    poor  little  narrow   river.     All  along 

*  All  Cambridge  men  will  recognize  the  following  as  a  fancy 
picture,  combined  from  the  history  of  many  boat-races. 


186  ON   THE   CAM. 

the  strand  below  them  are  the  long,  narrow,  sharp 
club-boats,  of  which  a  new  one  is  manned  every 
instant.  From  the  windows  of  the  rooms  occupied 
by  the  St.  John's  boat-club  we  can  see  the  red  flag 
waving,  emblazoned  with  the  arms  of  Lady  Mar- 
garet Somerset,  foundress  of  St.  John's  and  Christ's 
Colleges.  This  flag  being  displayed  shows  that  St. 
John's  is  at  present  head  of  the  river.  We  stroll 
along  the  banks,  now  muddy  and  now  sandy, 
watching  the  coal-barges  trailing  slowly  up  from 
Lynn  and  Wisbeach,  and  the  light  club-boats, 
bearing  down  crews  of  inferior  oarsmen  to  witness 
the  contests  of  the  champions,  and  darting  between 
the  barges  like  flies  in  a  cow-pasture.  We  arc  in 
plenty  of  time,  for  the  gray  old  church  of  Chester- 
ton, across  the  water,  is  ringing  out  a  quarter  of 
seven  in  its  sweet  chimes.  But  what  is  this  that 
encounters  us,  breaking  in  rudely  on  all  the  pas- 
toral and  soothing  thoughts  of  chimes  and  evening 
and  what  not  ?  A  boy,  or  a  monkey  ?  A  boy, 
and  a  very  dirty  one,  with  a  broom  still  dirtier  than 
himself.  With  this  he  assiduously  sweeps  the  coal- 
dust  and  mud  left  by  the  colliers  right  under  our 
feet,  and  then  calls  upon  us  in  an  uncommonly 
cheerful  voice,  to  "  Give  me  a  copper,  sir,  just  one, 
sir,  I  've  got  no  father,  sir."  Spurning  him,  his 
broom,  and  the  ashes  of  his  father,  we  press  on, 
our  path  every  moment  getting  more  and  more 
crowded  with  eager  spectators.  We  soon  arrive  at 
a  ferry,  where  are  three  or  four  very  dingy  craft, 


LECTURE   VI.  187 

soliciting  passengers,  but  getting  none.  No,  we 
will  wait  till  the  regular  boatman  comes  back  from 
his  last  load  with  his  clean  blue  boat,  and  his  hat 
showing  the  ribbon  of  the  head  of  the  river.  He 
is  at  once  saluted  as  "  Charon  "  by  a  dozen  voices, 
and  imploring  us  to  "  step  steady,  gentlemen," 
soon  punts  us  over  on  the  verge  of  foundering. 
A  few  moments  more,  and  we  are  at  the  railway 
bridge.  Here  all  spectators  who  have  come  down 
in  boats  disembark,  and  leave  their  boats  to  walk 
on  to  the  racing-ground. 

This  extends  for  about  a  mile  and  three  quarters 
from  the  railway  bridge.  In  the  great  University 
races  the  boats  take  their  stations  at  the  farther 
end  of  it  and  row  up  towards  Cambridge,  ending 
at  the  railway  bridge.  The  river  turns  and  winds 
a  good  deal  in  this  distance,  giving  scope  for  the 
most  careful  steering,  as  it  is  scarcely  ever  over 
twenty  yards  wide.  At  about  the  middle  of  the 
course  is  the  Plough  Inn,  which  can  be  reached 
by  a  very  pretty  drive,  and  is  generally  the  ren- 
dezvous of  those  who  do  not  like  the  idea  of  a  run 
on  the  bank.  We  ourselves  are  on  the  towing-path 
the  other  side  from  the  Plough.  Just  wateli  the 
crowd  on  the  bank,  oarsmen  in  their  club  flannels, 
AtheiKcum  men  witli  their  faultless  London  gar- 
ments, tutors  and  proctors  in  their  clerical  garb, 
and  sonic  very  hard  student,  a  prospective  senior 
wrangler,  who  has  accidentally  conic  down  for  an 
evening   stroll,  and  looks  round  bewildered,  lor  he 


188  ON   THE   CAM. 

never  heard  of  a  boat-race,  and  can't  conceive  why 
he  never  met  such  a  crowd  here  before.  There  — 
you  can  see  the  racing  boats  begin  to  come  up  the 
river,  —  not  the  best,  however,  —  those  before  us 
will  take  their  places  at  the  end  of  the  division. 
Each  boat  will  row  down  to  nearly  the  end,  then 
turn  so  as  to  bring  up  against  its  proper  post,  with 
its  head  up  the  river.  There  it  will  be  moored, 
and  the  crew  step  out.  This  is  soon  made  apparent, 
as  we  see  walking  up  to  us  the  crews  of  the  boats 
that  just  shot  past  us.  There,  —  men  are  beginning 
to  gaze  eagerly  on  that  next  boat,  —  as  the  dark- 
blue  uniform  flashes  into  sight,  "  I.  Trinity  Second  " 
is  the  cry  from  the  bank.  There  are  three  clubs 
in  Trinity,  of  which  the  first  is  the  largest,  and  it 
generally  can  muster  three  boats  among  the  first 
twenty.  At  present,  its  second  boat  stands  ninth 
on  the  river.  You  will  understand  that  all  mem- 
bers of  the  college,  irrespective  of  seniority,  join  the 
boat-clubs  ;  the  control  and  management  being  in 
the  hands  of  the  older  members.  These  are  very 
assiduous  in  practising  the  Freshmen  and  new- 
comers generally,  and  selecting  the  good  oarsmen 
from  them  for  the  high  boats.  I.  Trinity  Second 
has  passed,  and  the  next  is  a  curious  uniform  of 
gray  and  blue,  which  proclaims  it  to  be  Christ's. 
The  next  is  the  maroon-color  of  Corpus,  the  next 
the  rich  rose-color  of  Emmanuel,  and  the  next  the 
royal  purple  of  Caius. 

As  fast  as  each  boat  turns,  rows  up  to  its  post 


LECTURE   VI.  189 

and  stops,  it  is  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  admirers 
from  its  own  college,  and  some  sarcastic  outsiders, 
who  exchange  remarks  of  all  kinds  with  each  other 
on  the  event,  and  countless  bets  are  made.  The 
crews  begin  to  feel  cold,  and  start  on  a  stroll,  — 
gradually  the  crowds  melt  together,  and  the  whole 
bank  becomes  alive  with  a  thousand  University 
men  of  every  type  of  face,  mind,  and  particularly 
costume. 

Hush  ;  there  is  a  boat  sweeping  down,  evidently 
far  better  than  any  that  have  gone  before  it.  Its 
oarsmen  wear  black  hats,  with  a  black  and  white 
ribbon  round  them.  They  are  a  wiry,  vicious- 
looking  lot,  and  though  a  series  of  misfortunes  has 
brought  them  down  to  fourth,  yet  no  one  dares 
speak  slightingly  of  Trinity  Hall.  They  soon  at- 
tract a  great  crowd,  for  Trinity  Hall,  besides  its 
own  peculiar  fame,  is  the  champion  in  general  of 
the  smaller  colleges.  But  still  greater  excitement 
is  manifested,  as  a  plain  gray  uniform  comes  into 
view,  and  all  eyes  are  turned  to  watch  the  most 
noted  club  of  the  University.  It  is  III.  Trin- 
ity, composed  exclusively  of  members  of  Trinity 
College,  who  have  previously  been  at  Eton  or 
Westminster  schools,  which,  being  situated  on  the 
Thames,  are  far  ahead  of  all  other  schools  in  row- 
ing. And  now  the  tale  of  boats  is  nearly  complete. 
The  dark  blue  of  I.  Trinity  swings  into  the  second 
place,  and  just  as  its  adherents  are  eagerly  pressing 
the  question,  —"Shall  you  do  it?"  "()  shall  you 


190  ON  THE  CAM. 

do  it?  "  some  one  else  shouts,  "  There  they  are, — 
there  's  the  pigs."  This  coarse,  but  well-known 
name,  calls  all  eyes  to  the  St.  John's  oarsmen,  in 
their  scarlet  uniform,  proudly  rowing  to  the  first 
place.  Night  after  night  have  they  baffled  Trinity 
in  all  attempts  to  bump  them,  and  assume  the  head 
place.  You  will  understand,  that  the  Cam  being 
wholly  too  narrow  to  permit  of  rowing  abreast,  it  is 
the  practice  in  all  great  races  to  draw  the  boats  up 
in  a  line,  with  a  boat's  length  between  each,  and 
the  object  is  then  to  row  over  the  distance  so  as 
to  touch  the  stern  of  the  first  with  the  bow  of  the 
second  boat.  If  this  is  effected,  the  first  changes 
places  with  the  second  in  the  next  race,  or  is 
dropped  altogether,  according  to  the  terms  of  the 
match.  Notice  in  many  of  the  other  boats  oars- 
men with  the  sky-blue  cap,  that  marks  a  Uni- 
versity oarsman,  one  who  has  been  chosen  to  row 
against  Oxford;  but  not  in  the  Trinity  boat.  They 
have  University  oars,  more  than  one,  but  not  to- 
night. No  ;  to-night  all  shall  wear  the  dark-blue 
alike,  for  the  honor  of  their  dear  old  college.  The 
St.  John's  men,  who  have  at  last  won  the  head 
place,  and  held  it  triumphantly  night  after  night, 
shall  they  be  defrauded  of  the  laurel  on  their  very 
brows,  and  in  one  night  be  condemned  to  hold  the 
second  place  for  a  whole  year  ?  Ah,  but  the 
Trinity  men  have  been  working  together  night 
after  night ;  every  race  has  put  new  vigor  and 
unity    into    their    stroke.       Steadily    have    they 


LECTURE   VI.  191 

worked  up  above  all  other  rivals,  and  last  night 
they  pursued  the  Johnians,  pressing  hard  up  to 
the  course's  end.  Well  did  Virgil  know  —  and 
what  did  he  not  know  —  the  passions  that  stir  in 
the  breasts  of  oarsmen,  — 

"  These  burn  with  shame  to  lose  their  hard-earned  crown, 
And  life  would  freely  barter  for  renown ; 
But  those,  with  rising  hope,  their  triumphs  scan, 
For  they  can  conquer  who  believe  they  can."  * 

Such  are  the  contending  thoughts  in  the  minds 
of  the  countless  admirers  of  either  side  that  are 
strolling  up  and  down  the  banks ;  when,  suddenly, 
they  are  recalled  to  their  senses  by  a  sudden  bang  . 
The  first  gun  ;  and  the  crews  all  make  rapidly  to 
their  boats,  and  begin  to  embark.  Eagerly  the  cox- 
swain looks  over  his  crew.  "  Now,  then,  who  's 
number  4  ?  O,  Wright ;  well,  where  is  he  ? 
Here,  Wright,  Wright.  He  '11  be  late,  to  a  dead 
certainty."  No  ;  there  comes  that  hard,  compact 
figure,  and  that  generous  face  breaking  through 
the  crowd  of  gray  jackets,  for  he  has  been  ex- 
changing a  last  defiance  with  the  crew  of  the 
HI.  Trinity,  who  are  insinuating,  audacious  mor- 
tals, that  not  only  will  First  not  catch  John's, 
but  will  get  bumped  themselves.  "  Now  then, 
4,  got  in.  Are  you  all  ready?  "  "  No,  no,  not 
yet  ;  my  stretcher  s  wrong.''  The  dark-blue 
jackets  arc   torn  off,  and   thrown   to  the  men  on 

*  Shade  (if  Dryden  !       Forgive   your  humblest   admirer  for 
joining  three  feeble  lined  to  one  of  your  matchless  verses  ! 


192  ON   THE   CAM. 

shore.  "  Now  ;  Sturge  times  us,  does  n't  he  ?  " 
"  Ay,  all  right  "  ;  and  you  see  by  every  boat 
some  sympathizing  friend  with  a  stop-watch. 
Bang !  the  second  gun.  The  last  arrangements 
are  hurriedly  made.  All  along  the  banks  eager 
partisans  are  just  ready  to  begin  their  race  with 
their  favorite.  "  Push  out,"  is  the  cry ;  and 
slowly,  steadily,  the  oars  are  raised,  and  the  boat 
gently  fended  off.  "  Quarter  of  a  minute  gone  "  ; 
and  all  down  the  bank  comes  up  the  refrain  from 
every  boat,  —  "Quarter  gone."  The  last  settle- 
ment in  the  seats,  the  last  jacket  pitched  ashore, 
the  last  firm  grasp  of  the  oar,  never  to  be  let  go. 
"  Half  a  minute  gone  "  ;  now  the  boats  are  all  in 
the  middle  of  the  stream.  "  Back  a  stroke,  2  ; 
easy  backing  ;  pull,  bow  and  3  "  ;  for  the  oars  are 
numbered,  beginning  at  the  bow ;  not,  as  with  us, 
at  the  stroke.  "  Fifteen  seconds  left."  All  eyes 
along  the  bank  are  fixed  on  the  watchmen,  as 
their  timing  now  comes  more  frequently.  "  Ten, 
nine,  eight,  seven,  six,  five,  four,  three,  two,  one, 
—  gun,"  —  bang  !  —  splash.  "  Well  started,  well 
started,"  cry  the  partisans  on  the  bank.  "  Well 
rowed,  well  rowed";  for  First  Trinity  has  leapt 
ahead  with  a  bound,  as  if  she  were  on  wings ;  and 
all  the  hopes  of  Third  Trinity  to  bump  her,  with 
that  headlong  spurt  so  characteristic  of  Etonians, 
is  nipped  in  the  bud.  "  Well  rowed,  Trinity ;  well 
rowed,  John's.  Now  then,  take  her  along."  See 
the  headlong  rush  upon    the   bank.     A  thousand 


LECTURE   VI.  193 

men,  in  every  sort  of  dress  or  undress,  tearing 
along  at  the  rate  of  a  mile  in  three  minutes ;  now 
stumbling  and  falling,  now  shouting  and  pushing, 
now  silent,  with  their  lips  burning,  and  their  eyes 
starting,  but  all  on  fire  with  excitement.  There, 
that  fat  little  tutor  is  knocked  down,  and  his  pupils 
rush  over  him,  all  but  trampling  him  to  death ;  but 
never  stop  for  anything  like  that.  There  a  crowd 
have  stopped  to  congratulate  Emmanuel,  which 
has  succeeded  in  bumping  Caius.  Victors  and 
vancniished  haul  off  to  the  side  and  let  the  hind 
boats  come  up.  Far  down  you  see  evidences  of 
other  bumps;  all  of  which  attract  weary  admirers, 
thankful  to  get  a  respite  from  running.  But  still, 
all  the  real  interest  is  with  the  head  boats.  As 
the  tortuous  track  winds  by  Grassy  Corner,  a 
broad  green  peninsula,  covered  with  spectators, 
the  excitement  is  fearful.  "  Well  rowed,  well 
rowed,  Trinity.  Well  rowed,  4,"  as  Wright's 
broad  back  comes  leaping  forward  and  spring- 
ing back,  like  a  three-ton  trip-hammer.  "  Well 
steered ;  O,  well  steered,  Trinity,"  as  the  little 
spectacled  coxswain,  well  known  all  over  England, 
swings  up  his  boat  close  to  the  corner,  gaining 
several  feet  at  once.  "  Well  rowed,  well  rowed  ; 
half  a  length  more."  "  You  're  safe,  John's,  you  're 
saii-  ;  they  '11  never  do  it."  There,  the  Plough 
Inn  is  coming  in  sight  ;  pass  that  corner,  and 
it  's  all  a  straight  reach,  — -no  more  room  for  pick- 
ing up  there  ;    no  more    fine  steering,      lint    see, 

9  M 


194  ON   THE   CAM. 

the  Trinity  stroke  bounds  forward  with  an  effort 
to  which  all  his  former  exertions  were  child's  pla y ; 
and  the  dark-blue  oars  leap  in  their  sockets  till 
their  blades  seem  like  a  single  broad  flash  of  light 
alone;  the  gunwale,  and  the  shout  rings  like  a  vol- 
ley  of  musketry  ;  —  "  Well  rowed,  well  rowed, 
Trinity  "  ;  and,  as  they  swirl  round  Ditton  Corner, 
once  more  that  deft  pull  on  the  strings,  and  the 
sharp  bow  comes  flashing  up  into  the  stern  of  the 
Johnians ;  and,  like  a  peal  of  thunder,  bursts  forth 
the  tin-ice  re-echoing,  "  Hurrah  for  First ;  well 
rowed,  First,  well  rowed."  "  Quick  ;  here,  bring 
the  flag."  The  grand  old  standard,  the  Golden 
Lion  with  his  three  crowns  on  the  dark-blue 
field,  is  raised  by  the  coxswain  ;  and,  as  the  boats 
row  home  in  the  thickening  twilight,  it  will  trail 
from  their  stern  along  the  dark  green  waters,  and 
wave  triumphantly  from  their  boat-house  window. 
Loud  and  deep  is  the  rejoicing  among  the  sons  of 
Trinity,  as  they  walk  back  to  their  dear  old  halls ; 
hearty  their  praises  of  the  valiant  oarsmen  that 
have  worked  so  long  and  so  well ;  and  especially 
their  choicest  encomiums  will  rest  on  the  stroke, 
an  American,  —  God  bless  him,  —  and  a  scion  of 
the  old  Gardiner  stock  on  the  Kennebec.  And 
in  their  loud  rejoicings  to-night,  at  supper,  their 
songs  will  swell  in  praise  of  Trinity  in  strains  not 
unlike  those  which  follow  :  — 


LECTURE   VI.  195 

BOAT-SONG   FOR   TRINITY. 

Raise  the  shout  of  glory ! 
Tell  once  more  the  story 
How  her  forehead  hoary 

Shines  with  laurels  new. 
From  the  banks  rebounding," 
Every  foe  confounding, 
Peals  the  triumph,  sounding 

O'er  the  royal  blue. 

Long  the  insulting  foemen, 
Like  the  haughty  Roman, 
Dared  our  valiant  yeomen, 

Sneering,  to  the  fight. 
But  in  vain  they  vaunted, 
Not  a  moment  daunted, 
All  on  fire  we  panted 

For  the  latest  night. 

"  Now  each  eye  lie  steady, 
Every  oar  be  ready, 
We  shall  triumph,"  said  he, — 

lie  our  leader  true. 
Then,  the  last  shot  parting, 
"With  one  impulse  starting, 
Like  an  arrow  darting 

From  the  bow,  we  flew. 

Every  glad  shout  feeling, 
From  our  comrades  pealing, 
All  our  sinews  stealing, 

Surged  our  heart's  best  blood. 
While  the  rhythmic  chiming 
Of  onr  tough  oars  rhvminc 


190  ON   THE   CAM. 

To  the  steersman's  timing, 
Swept  along  the  flood. 

Hark  !  the  shout  rings  clearer 
From  each  hearty  cheerer, 
Nearer  fast  and  nearer 

Our  brave  craft  doth  go. 
Then,  together  dashing, 
All  our  oar-blades  flashing, 
Like  an  earthquake  crashing 

Burst  we  on  the  foe. 

See,  ye  brave  who  man  her, 
See,  ye  hosts  that  scan  her, 
How  her  ancient  banner 

Far  resplendent  streams,  — 
Where  the  haughty  scion 
Of  King  Edward's  lion, 
Glorious  like  Orion, 

Trebly  crowned  gleams. 

Raise  the  shout  of  glory  ! 
Tell  once  more  the  story, 
How  the  mother  hoary 

Hails  each  victor  son. 
Peals  of  joy  attend  her, 
Stalwart  arms  defend  her, 
Loyal  hearts  befriend  her, 

Trinity  has  won  ! 


VII. 

SUEVEY  OF  THE  DIFFEEENT  COLLEGES. 

St.  John's.  —  Magdalene.  —  Sidney  Sussex.  —  Jesus.  — 
Christ's.  —  Emmanuel.  —  Downing.  —  St.  Peter's.  —  Pem- 
broke. —  Queens'.  —  St.  Catherine's.  —  Corpus  Christi. 
—  King's.  —  Clare.  —  Trinity   Hall.  —  Caius. 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen  :  — 

In  my  last  two  lectures  I  introduced  you  to  the 
life  of  an  undergraduate  of  Trinity  College,  both 
as  it  exists  every  day,  and  with  certain  exceptional 
scenes.  This  pre-eminence  may  be  fairly  ac- 
corded to  Trinity,  as  being  the  largest,  the  richest, 
and  the  most  versatile  of  all  the  colleges.  Every 
one  is  partial  to  his  own,  out  of  a  great  many  ;  but 
no  one  can  have  lived  Ion";  at  Cambridge  without 
noticing  not  only  that  Trinity  has  the  pre-emi- 
nence in  the  points  just  mentioned,  but  also  that 
the  public  favor  has  been  steadily  setting  to  it  for 
many  years  above  the  other  colleges.  It  numbers 
at  present  over  five  hundred  undergraduates,  more 
than  double  the  number  of  St.  John's,  which  is 
the  next  largest.  It  would  be,  however,  very  un- 
fair to  represent  Cambridge  without  taking  any 
account  of  the  other  colleges  whose  members  to- 
gether constitute  at  least  two  thirds  of  all  the  Uni- 
versity, and  have   each   and   all   of  them  its  own 


198  ON  THE   CAM. 

share  in  moulding  the  University  to  its  present 
form  and  so  retaining  it. 

It  is  impossible  to  give  any  general  rules  why  a 
student  coming  to  Cambridge  selects  one  college 
more  than  another.  If  the  two  largest  did  not 
either  of  them  please  him,  with  all  their  manifold 
advantages,'  one  would  think  that  among  the  five 
or  six  of  the  richest  and  most  favored  he  must 
surely  find  the  right  one.  And  yet  you  see  every 
year,  men  of  all  possible  powers  and  tastes,  turning 
up  at  one  or  other  of  the  smaller  colleges,  entirely 
happy  there,  as  eager  for  the  honor  of  their  dear 
little  hermitage  as  all  the  Trinity  men  and  John- 
ians  for  their  great  barracks,  and  you  labor  in 
vain  to  discover  why  they  selected  as  it  were  this 
country  town  rather  than  either  of  the  great  me- 
tropoles  of  learning.  In  some  it  is  family  associa- 
tion, in  some  an  old  friendship  with  one  of  the 
authorities,  in  some  a  preference  for  the  peculiar 
hours  and  accommodations.  There  were  formerly 
—  they  are  breaking  it  up  very  fast  now  —  at  dif- 
ferent colleges  rich  scholarships  and  funds  limited 
to  young  men  from  particular  schools.  For  in- 
stance, Wakefield  in  Yorkshire,  a  large,  dingy 
manufacturing  town,  wholly  given  to  its  country 
staples,  has  an  ordinary  grammar-school,  where 
there  are  not  a  great  many  of  the  farmers'  and 
mill-owners'  sons  who  care  to  pursue  high  classical 
or  mathematical  study.  Now  Clare  College,  at 
Cambridge,  has  three  or  four  rich  exhibitions,  as 


lecture  vn.  199 

they  are  called,  for  students  from  Wakefield 
school.  Consequently,  every  year,  the  three  or 
four  rough,  stalwart  young  Yorkshire  farmers  and 
manufacturers,  who  have  been  willing  to  apply 
their  canniness  to  collegiate  studies,  walk  up  to 
Clare  College,  one  of  the  most  elegant  and  exclu- 
sive of  all  at  Cambridge. 

I  propose  to  take  an  hour's  walk  with  you  to- 
night round  the  various  halls  and  colleges  of  Cam- 
bridge, spending  a  few  minutes  at  each  to  study 
their  peculiarities.  We  will  start  from  the  great 
gate  of  Trinity.  Turning  up  Trinity  Street,  and 
passing  the  end  of  Trinity  College  Chapel,  we 
find  Trinity  Street  becoming  St.  John's  Street, 
which  shows  us  that  the  rich  antique  gateway  in 
red  and  white  brick  before  which  we  stand  is  that 
of  St.  John's  College.  It  presents  three  courts 
extending  in  a  straight  line  up  to  the  very  bank 
of  the  river.  They  are  all  plain,  but  the  second, 
a  piece  of  red  brick  Tudor  architecture,  with  high 
gal  ties  all  round,  is  remarkably  neat,  compact,  and 
homelike.  The  general  plan  of  all  the  colleges  is 
much  the  same.  In  the  first  court  you  find  lec- 
ture-rooms, a  chapel,  and  a  Master's  Lodge.  At 
the  side  opposite  the  gateway  you  pass  into  the 
second  court  through  an  archway  which  has  on 
one  side  the  door  of  the  dining-hall,  and  on  the 
other  the  passage  to  the  kitchens  and  butteries. 
Further  on  will  be  the  library.  These  are  not 
invariably  the  relative  situations,  but  more  com- 
mon than  any  other. 


200  ON  THE  CAM. 

After  passing  through  the  three  older  courts  of 
St.  John's,  we  come  suddenly  out  on  a  very 
pretty  covered  Gothic  bridge,  spanning  the  river 
between  the  third  and  fourth  courts.  To  look  out 
from  the  airy  and  elegant  mullioned  windows  down 
the  river,  with  the  buildings  coming  down  close  to 
the  water,  in  their  rich  red  and  yellow,  and  the 
heavy  black  silent  barges  forcing  their  way  slowly 
up,  gives  a  silent  picture  of  a  perfectly  Venetian 
character ;  while  looking  up  the  river,  there  is  a 
view  of  some  of  the  rooms  in  Trinity,  their  win- 
dows just  peeping  out  of  clusters  of  ivy,  and  all 
along  the  banks  smooth  lawns  shelving  to  the 
water  under  venerable  trees,  and  the  gray  old 
bridge  of  St.  John's,  all  telling  you  you  are  in 
dear  domestic  England.  The  new  bridge  is  po- 
etically called  by  its  owners  the  Bridge  of  Sighs. 
But  the  profane,  remembering  the  term  pigs  so 
commonly  applied  to  Johnians,  have  denominated 
it  the  Isthmus  of  Suez.  So  when  the  Johnians 
ordered  a  new  organ,  a  great  local  wit  called  it 
"  Bacon's  Novum  Organon."  The  fourth,  or  new 
court  of  St.  John's,  is  a  magnificent  structure,  or 
rather  half  a  structure.  It  is  said  that  the  archi- 
tect, a  very  zealous  reviver  of  the  Gothic  style,  on 
seeing  an  undergraduate  in  the  court  shut  his 
window  on  a  very  cold  day,  rushed  up  to  his 
room,  and  begged  him  never  to  shut  both  halves 
of  his  window,  because  the  true  effect  of  the  build- 
ing depended  upon  one  half  being  open. 


lecture  vn.  201 

St.  John's  is  the  great  mathematical  college. 
It  has  always  sent  out  more  senior  and  other  high 
wranglers  than  any  other.  Not  that  it  has  failed 
to  educate  fine  classical  scholars  also,  but  the  very 
decided  preference  is  for  mathematics.  It  is  also 
the  great  Tory  college,  and  can  always  produce 
a  high  conservative  candidate  at  all  elections  to 
oppose  the  liberal  candidate  from  Trinity  or  some 
other  college. 

Let  us  walk  out  into  the  beautiful  grounds  of 
the  college  and  look  at  the  new  court  from  them. 
Its  proportions  are  truly  noble,  but  may  be  best 
observed  from  the  bridge  of  Trinity.  It  is  said 
that  an  undergraduate  of  St.  John's  was  once 
lounging  on  Trinity  bridge  just  before  dinner, 
when  the  reverend  and  learned  the  Master  was 
returning  from  his  daily  canter.  He  rode  up  to 
the  youth  with  the  remark,  "  Sir,  this  is  a  place 
of  transit  and  not  of  lounge."  No  attention  was 
paid  to  this,  and  the  remark  was  repeated  with 
vet  more  force.  "  Sir,  are  you  aware  what  the 
bridge  of  Trinity  College  is  made  for?"  "Yes, 
sir,  to  see  St.  John's  new  buildings  from."  And 
the  Master  rode  on  to  dinner. 

Passing  out  of  St.  John's  College  grounds  we 
come  through  a  handsome  iron  gate  upon  the  road 
leading  back  of  the  college.  We  see  before  us 
the  racket  courts,  built  by  subscription  in  the  col- 
lege we  have  just  quitted.  This  fine  sport,  giving 
excellent  training  for  eye  and  hand,  and  hard 
a* 


202  ON  THE   CAM. 

work  for  every  muscle,  is  greatly  esteemed  at 
English  schools  and  colleges.  Beyond  it  is  the 
cricket  ground  for  Trinity.  Passing  up  the  road 
to  the  northward,  we  see  on  the  right  a  very 
quaint  old  building  already  alluded  to,  now  occu- 
pied as  a  farm-house.  It  is  of  the  Norman  period, 
and  known  as  the  School  of  Pythagoras.  The 
ground  around  it  belongs,  curiously  enough,  to  one 
of  the  colleges  at  Oxford.  A  tortuous  street  leads 
us  into  one  of  the  great  arteries  of  the  town,  the 
high  road  coming  from  Huntingdon  on  the  west, 
and  Ely  on  the  north,  and  turning  down  it  in 
an  easterly  direction  we  soon  come  to  Magdalene 
College. 

This  College  is  small,  and  of  no  very  great  in- 
terest. It  was  founded  by  Lord  Audley,  one  of 
Henry  VIII. 's  magnates.  He  was  also  the 
founder  of  Audley  End,  a  magnificent  mansion  in 
Essex,  now  owned  by  a  descendant  of  the  proud 
baronial  family  of  Neville,  and  the  well-known 
parliamentary  house  of  Grenville.  To  this  seat 
of  Audley  End,  Lord  Audley  attached  the  mas- 
tership of  Magdalene.  So  that  whoever  owns 
Audley  End,  by  descent  or  purchase  of  any  kind, 
owns  also  the  right  to  appoint  the  head  of  Magda- 
lene College.  It  is  of  course  generally  given  to 
some  Rev.  Mr.  Neville  or  other. 

Magdalene  possesses  one  invaluable  treasure, 
the  library  and  manuscripts  of  the  celebrated  Sam- 
uel Pepys,  Secretary  of  the  Admiralty  to  the  last 


LECTURE  vn.  203 

Stuart  kings,  and  author  of  the  well-known  Diary. 
This  beautiful  collection  is  preserved  with  consid- 
erable jealousy,  but  is  always  accessible  to  proper 
persons  desirous  of  consulting  it.  There  is  little 
remarkable  about  the  Magdalene  buildings.  The 
College  is  small  and  not  wealthy.  It  has  of  late 
had  one  or  two  distinguished  scholars  ;  but  it  is 
famous  for  a  luxurious  table,  and  very  lax  disci- 
pline. So  that  it  is  a  favorite  home  for  young 
men  who  are  of  the  opinion,  either  from  conjecture 
or  experience,  that  other  colleges  are  too  strict  for 
them. 

Continuing  past  the  front  of  Magdalene,  we  soon 
recross  the  river  by  an  ugly  iron  bridge  in  the 
busiest  part  of  the  town,  where  coal-barges  deposit 
their  loads.  We  pass  the  fronts  of  St.  Clement's 
and  St.  Sepulchre's  Churches,  and  shortly  after 
arrive  at  Jesus  Lane.  In  the  corner  which  it 
forms  with  the  street  in  which  we  have  been  walk- 
ing stands  Sidney  Sussex  College.  It  consists  of 
two  courts  in  a  combination  of  the  Elizabethan 
and  renaissance  styles  of  architecture,  having  no 
buildings,  but  instead,  a  high  wall  on  the  side 
towards  the  street.  There  is  nothing  peculiar  or 
interesting  about  it,  except  an  original  portrait 
of  Oliver  Cromwell,  and  the  gardens,  which  are 
laid   out   with   unusual   taste  and  skill. 

We  accordingly  leave  Sidney  on  our  right,  and 
turning  down  Jesus  Lane,  pass  a  perfect  nest  of 
small   houses,  all   let   in   rooms  to  undergraduates, 


204  ON  THE   CAM. 

mostly  Trinity  men.  I  should  have  said  that  at 
the  large  colleges,  especially  Trinity,  the  number 
of  resident  students  is  much  larger  than  that  of 
the  rooms,  and,  therefore,  at  least  half  live  out  of 
the  college  buildings,  while  all  the  really  first-rate 
sets  of  rooms  are  appropriated  to  the  authorities, 
who,  instead  of  being  interspersed  among  the  stu- 
dents as  policemen,  generally  congregate  together 
in  the  best  quarters,  and  leave  the  undergraduates 
to  themselves.  In  the  smaller  colleges,  on  the 
other  hand,  any  undergraduate  can  get  an  excel- 
lent set  of  rooms.  It  will  be  understood  that 
every  undergraduate,  however  limited  his  means, 
has  two  rooms  to  himself,  and  that  the  system  of 
chums  is  unknown. 

We  leave  this  little  colony  of  Trinitarians,  and 
pass  the  opening  of  Park  Street,  wherein  are  the 
rooms  of  the  A.  D.  C,  or  Acting  Club,  and  soon 
there  rises  on  the  right  the  long  garden  wall  of 
Jesus  College.  A  broad  bricked  walk  leads  us  from 
the  street  to  its  massive  stone  gateway.  It  is  one 
of  the  most  interesting  and  beautiful  colleges  in 
Cambridge.  There  is  a  single  little  court  entirely 
surrounded  by  cloisters,  the  only  complete  one  in 
the  University.  From  this  extend  lines  of  build- 
ings, open  on  every  side  to  the  free  air  coming 
across  gay  gardens  and  broad  meadows.  The 
chapel  is  of  church-like  proportions,  and  is  con- 
sidered, next  to  that  of  King's,  the  most  beautiful 
in  Cambridge.     Gregorian  chants  are  introduced 


LECTURE  vn.  205 

into  the  service  there,  which  are  considered  to  be- 
long peculiarly  to  the  High  Church  ritual,  and 
indeed  the  whole  college  is  given  to  the  study  of 
Divinity  of  the  most  Anglican,  or  even  Anglo- 
Catholic  kind.  Jesus  College  is  founded  on  the 
site  of  an  ancient  nunnery,  and  most  romantic 
stories  are  told  of  the  fair  nuns  who  once  were 
sheltered  there.  The  monastic  vows  of  damsels 
could  not  long  remain  in  force  while  a  flourish- 
ing University  of  young  men  was  growing  up  all 
around  them.  And  the  students  of  Cambridge 
having  gained  entire  possession  of  the  hearts  of 
the  nuns  of  St.  Rhadegund,  it  was  determined  to 
give  them  possession  of  their  house  also,  and  the 
ruined  nunnery  became  Jesus  College. 

Passing  on  from  Jesus  we  turn  to  the  right  and 
cross  a  broad  open  plot  of  ground,  surrounded  by 
handsome  houses.  It  is  called  Christ's  Piece,  and 
a  few  steps  farther  brings  us  to  Christ's  College. 
This  college  was  founded  by  the  Lady  Margaret 
Somerset,  Countess  of  Richmond  and  Derby.  She 
also  founded  St.  John's  College,  in  whose  boat- 
club  her  name  is  perpetuated,  as  well  as  in  two 
professorships.  She  seems  to  have  been  a  most 
benevolent  and  honored  personage  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  fifteenth  century,  though  her  position 
was  somewhat  singular.  Her  son,  Henry  Earl  of 
Richmond,  claimed  a  right  to  the  throne,  derived 
through  her,  and  actually  became  King  Henry 
VII.   more    than    twenty   years    before   the    death 


206  ON   THE   CAM. 

of  the  mother  by  whom  he  claimed.  We  pass 
through  the  ancient  gateway  of  Christ's  College 
into  a  very  airy  and  bright  but  irregular  court- 
yard, thence  into  a  second  open  space,  called  the 
second  court,  but  of  a  very  park-like  character, 
with  only  one  elegant  row  of  Palladian  buildings. 
At  an  archway  barred  by  a  gate  we  stop,  ring- 
ing a  larne  bell,  and  admiring  the  arms  of 
Lady  Margaret,  the  old  lilies  and  lions,  over  the 
grating.  A  venerable  gardener  soon  answers 
the  summons,  and  as  he  knows  me  of  old,  lets  me 
walk  in  without  a  question.  We  are  now  in  the 
fellows'  garden  of  Christ's  College.  These  fellows, 
shrewd  men,  among  their  other  advantages,  man- 
age to  secure  a  fine  piece  of  ground  to  themselves, 
within  the  college  precincts,  where  they  have  a 
nice  garden  to  stroll  in  after  dinner.  Generally 
these  gardens  are  not  accessible  to  the  public  ex- 
cept when  thrown  open  on  great  occasions,  but 
Christ's  always  is.  We  compliment  the  old  gar- 
dener on  his  velvet  turf  and  hoary  walnuts  and 
elms,  but  we  do  not  stop  for  them.  Neither  do 
we  linger  long  in  the  pretty  summer-house,  em- 
bowered in  trees,  with  the  alcove  behind  it,  and 
the  wide  and  deep  bathing-tank,  fed  with  an  ever- 
running  spring  of  pure  water,  and  its  banks  sur- 
rounded with  busts  and  memorial  urns  to  the  great 
men  of  the  college.  Here,  come  through  the 
shrubs  by  this  winding  path  to  the  open  grass, 
and  look  before  you.     What  is  it?    A  mound  of 


lecture  vn.  207 

earth  four  feet  high,  covered  with  turf,  and  a 
decaying  limb  of  a  mulberry-tree  growing  out  of 
it,  and  propped  up  by  stakes  all  around  it  ?  Yes, 
this  is  what  we  have  come  to  see.  This  decaying 
mulberry,  over  two  hundred  and  thirty  years  old, 
is  watched  and  tended  in  Christ's  with  the  utmost 
care.  Years  ago,  when  it  was  falling  from  age, 
and  props  became  of  little  avail,  the  turf  was 
banked  up  around  its  stem.  Its  chinks  are  sealed 
up  with  lead  and  canvas  like  the  old  elm  on  Boston 
Common  ;  if  a  bough  breaks  and  falls  it  is  instantly 
divided  with  religious  exactitude  among  the  fellows 
of  the  college.  Well  mav  they  watch  it,  well 
may  they  treasure  it,  well  may  pious  pilgrims 
year  after  year  seek  it  out  and  save  its  leaves  as 
precious  relics.  For  it  stands  as  the  record  how 
the  wayward,  proud  college-boy  became  the  states- 
man, the  philosopher,  the  poet.  It  stands  as  the 
record  how  a  mighty  genius,  broken  by  calamity, 
oppressed  by  bigotry,  tortured  by  fanaticism,  could 
yet  triumph  over  all  opposition,  and  bring  a  world 
in  homage  to  his  feet.  It  is  the  mulberry  planted 
by  the  hand  of  Milton. 

Retracing  our  steps  through  Christ's  College,  we 
turn  down  St.  Andrew's  Street,  and  presently 
there  rises  on  our  left  a  well-proportioned  range 
of  Palladian  buildings  ;  they  are  the  front  of 
the  two  courts  of  Emmanuel  College.  With  the 
exception  of  a  large*  pond  where  swans  swim  in 
the  rear,  there   is  little  remarkable  about  the  in- 


208  ON   THE   CAM. 

ternal  arrangement  of  this  college.  But  about  its 
history  there  is  much  to  notice.  It  was  founded 
by  Sir  Walter  Mildmay,  a  statesman  of  high  emi- 
nence in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  just  at 
the  time  when  the  Puritans  and  the  Bishops  were 
involved  in  the  fiercest  controversy,  which  had 
recently  resulted  in  the  acts  of  uniformity,  and 
other  confirmatory  acts,  endeavoring  to  force  the 
Puritans  into  unwilling  allegiance  to  the  Church 
of  England.  Sir  Walter  Mildmay  was  strongly 
attached  to  the  simpler  forms  of  worship,  and  it 
was  understood  by  all  his  contemporaries  that  his 
college  was  for  the  special  education  of  the  Puri- 
tans. The  Queen  herself  met  him  soon  after  the 
college  had  gone  into  operation,  and  said,  —  "  So, 
Sir  Walter,  I  hear  you  have  erected  a  Puritan 
foundation."  "  No,  Madam,"  was  his  reply  ; 
"  far  be  it  from  me  to  countenance  anything  con- 
trary to  your  established  laws  ;  but  I  have  set  an 
acorn,  which,  when  it  becomes  an  oak,  God  alone 
knows  what  will  be  the  fruit  thereof."  "  And," 
says  Fuller,  who  tells  the  story,  writing  in  1G34, 
"  Sure  I  am  at  this  day  it  hath  overshadowed  all 
the  University." 

This,  my  friends,  is  why  Emmanuel  College  is 
of  such  tender  interest  to  us.  This  it  is  which 
makes  every  New  England  visitor  to  Cambridge 
hurry  away  from  the  hall  of  Trinity,  the  library 
of  Magdalene,  the  chapel  of  King's,  to  gaze  with 
pious  reverence   on   the   ancient   halls   where  his 


LECTURE    V1L  209 

sainted  ancestors  stood  forth  against  the  bigotry 
and  intolerance  of  the  whole  University,  and  the 
Virgin  Queen  herself,  to  worship  God  after  their 
own  fashion.  The  Romanizing  traditions  of  Whit- 
gift  and  Bancroft  had  prescribed  that  all  churches 
and  chapels  must  be  built  in  a  line  east  and  west. 
But  the  founder  of  Emmanuel  had  learnt  from  his 
Euclid,  that  a  limited  straight  line  can  be  produced 
in  a  straight  line  in  any  direction,  and,  determined 
to  give  not  the  slightest  countenance  to  supersti- 
tion, he  drew  the  line  of  his  chapel  north  and 
south,  for  he  knew  that  too  could  be  produced 
from  earth  to  heaven.  It  was  at  Emmanuel  that 
were  educated  most  of  the  learned  ministers  who 
exchanged  their  dear  native  country,  their  parson- 
age houses  peeping  out  from  among  the  beeches, 
and  their  ancient  ivy-grown  parish  churches,  where 
men  had  worshipped  for  eight  centuries,  for  the 
trackless  forest.  It  was  from  Emmanuel  that  there 
went  forth  Hooker  and  Shepard  and  Iligginson 
and  John  Cotton,  to  carry  the  lamp  of  the  Gospel 
and  the  scarcely  less  glorious  lamp  of  liberty  all 
over  the  wastes  of  New  England.  It  was  from 
Emmanuel  that  John  Harvard  came  to  make  his 
will  in  favor  of  the  college  at  Newtowne  and  then 
die.  These  were  the  children  that  Emmanuel 
sent  forth  to  help  the  struggling  colony  of  the 
Massachusetts.  They  knew  how  to  stretch  the 
transepts  of  their  chapel  east  and  west  from  the 
Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  ;  they  knew  how  to  extend 


210  ON  THE   CAM. 

their  nave  and  choir  and  chancel  north  and  south 
from  the  St.  Lawrence  to  the  Gulf;  that  when 
hatred  and  strife  had  vanished,  there  might  rise 
in  one  chorus  from  every  aisle  of  the  nation's 
vast  cathedral,  the  universal  song  to  the  Lord 
Jehovah. 

"  Ay,  call  it  holy  ground, 

The  soil  where  first  they  trod ; 
They  have  left  unstained  what  there  they  found, 
Freedom  to  worship  God." 

But  how  is  the  beauty  of  Israel  fallen  upon  her 
high  places  !  After  the  restoration  of  Charles  II., 
William  Sancroft  was  appointed  Master  of  Em- 
manuel, and  the  work  of  "  purification  "  began,  — 
the  chapel  was  turned  into  a  library,  and  a  new 
one  duly  built  east  and  west.  In  1753,  Carter  ex- 
ultingly  states  that  the  "  leaven  of  Puritanism  has 
been  happily  purged  out  a  good  while  since,"  — 
and  now,  Emmanuel,  the  home  of  Harvard,  and 
Jesus,  the  college  of  the  apostle  John  Eliot,  con- 
tend for  the  honor  of  being  the  most  Puseyite 
College  in  Cambridge. 

Passing  through  the  gate  of  Emmanuel,  we  con- 
tinue our  walk  down  St.  Andrew's  Street.  We 
see  on  the  left  the  passage  to  a  large  square,  called 
Parker's  Piece.  It  is  not  in  any  way  fenced  in, 
and  is  occasionally  used  for  military  or  agricultural 
shows,  but  mainly  for  cricket  and  football.  It  is 
really  a  work  of  danger,  for  if  you  walk  across  it 
in  the   spring,   after  you   have   narrowly  escaped 


LECTURE    VH.  211 

tumbling  over  a  wicket  on  one  side,  and  a  "small 
boy  acting  long-stop  on  the  other,  you  will  find 
one  very  hard  ball  come  bang  against  your  shin, 
and  another  thud  against  your  hat,  two  or  three 
more  bearing  down  upon  you  with  more  than 
Folly  Island  accuracy,  and  your  ears  deafened 
everywhere  with  the  cry,  "  Thank  you,  ball " ; 
"  Ball,  if  you  please  "  ;  "  Ball,  sir,  thank  you," 
&c,  &c.  In  the  winter  Parker's  Piece  is  given 
up  to  football. 

Continuing  on  our  wav,  we  arrive  at  a  large 
iron  gate,  down  which  we  turn,  and  arrive  at  the 
only  place  in  Cambridge  which  looks  to  an  Ameri- 
can anything  like  a  college  yard.  It  is,  indeed,  a 
finely  situated  piece  of  ground  of  about  thirty 
acres  in  extent,  a  portion  planted  with  trees,  and 
in  the  centre  a  wide  velvet  lawn,  right  and  left 
of  which  stand  two  rows  of  buildings,  which  will 
eventually  be  connected  so  as  to  make  three  sides 
of  an  immense  quadrangle.  This  is  Downing  Col- 
lege, founded,  as  I  mentioned  in  my  first  lecture, 
by  Sir  George  Downing  of  Gamlingay,  a  descend- 
ant of  Sir  George  Downing,  a  graduate  of  the  first 
class  that  ever  left  Harvard,  that  of  1642.  He 
was  appointed  minister  to  Holland  by  Cromwell. 
Bv  dint  of  the  most  arrant  knavery  and  treach- 
ery, he  contrived  to  retain  the  appointment  under 
Charles  II.,  and  add  to  it  considerable  wealth  and 
a  baronet's  title.  The  second  or  third  Sir  George 
Downing   drew    up   a   long  and    elaborate  will   in 


212  ON  THE   CAM. 

1717,  bequeathing  all  his  property,  after  the  death 
of  the  last  heir  to  the  title,  to  found  a  college  in 
the  University  of  Cambridge.  The  history  of  the 
foundation  is  an  interesting  commentary  on  the 
text,  "  How  hard  it  is  to  do  good."  Sir  George 
died  in  1749,  and  the  last  heir  of  his  race  in  1764. 
For  four  years  the  estates  were  held  by  persons 
who  had  no  right  to  them.  In  1768  the  opinion 
of  the  Court  of  Chancery  was  given  with  great 
minuteness  unanimously  in  favor  of  the  founda- 
tion. In  1769  a  decree  was  obtained  in  favor  of 
it.  But  the  original  trustees  had  died  in  the  life- 
time of  the  founder,  and  the  execution  of  the  trust 
devolving  on  the  heirs-at-law,  a  series  of  opposi- 
tions and  litigations  delayed  all  definite  action  till 
1800,  when  the  privy  council  recommended  the 
foundation  to  the  king.  The  charter  was  granted 
Sept.  22d  in  that  year.  The  statutes  for  the 
government  of  the  college  were  framed  in  July, 
1805  ;  the  first  stone  laid  on  the  18th  of  May, 
1807  ;  and  the  college  finally  opened  for  the  resi- 
dence of  undergraduates  in  May,  1821,  —  fifty- 
seven  years  after  the  death  of  the  last  person  who 
had  any  legal  hold  on  the  property,  seventy-two 
years  after  the  death  of  the  original  founder,  and 
one  hundred  and  four  years  after  the  will  was 
drawn,  creating  it.  Downing  College  has  never 
been  largely  attended.  The  University  teems 
with  unnumbered  jokes  about  the  one  student 
there,  —  how,  when  he  is  ill,  he  lets  the  tutor  off 


LECTURE  vn.  213 

from  lecturing,  etc.  But  of  late,  the  funds  have 
been  put  more  actively  at  work,  and  the  college 
authorities  have  acted  very  wisely,  in  offering  lib- 
eral inducements  for  the  pursuit  of  those  studies 
not  generally  favored  in  other  colleges. 

Crossing  the  court  and  grounds  of  Downing  we 
come  out  by  a  small  iron  gate  through  Fitzwilliam 
Street  into  Trumpington  Street,  and  find  ourselves 
opposite  the  glorious  Corinthian  front  of  the  Fitz- 
william Museum.  This  splendid  building  contains 
a  large  and  exceedingly  valuable  collection,  but  as 
I  never  saw  it,  I  cannot  describe  it  to  you.  Pass- 
ing up  Trumpington  Street,  immediately  beyond 
the  Fitzwilliam  Museum  we  come  to  St.  Peter's 
College,  always  called  Peterhouse.  This  is  the 
oldest  college  in  Cambridge,  having  been  founded 
in  the  year  1257.  It  consists  of  two  very  elegant 
courts,  the  first  open  toward  the  street,  the  chapel 
standing  half  way  between  the  two  sides,  and  con- 
nected to  them  by  light  galleries.  Through  a  gate 
on  the  left  we  have  access  to  the  spacious  and  ele- 
gant gardens  of  Peterhouse,  one  of  the  prettiest 
resorts  in  Cambridge,  the  first  of  them  stocked 
with  beautiful  deer.  The  first  window  on  the 
street  as  we  turn  into  the  college  is  in  the  room 
inhabited  by  the  poet  Gray.  lie  is  well  known  to 
have  been  of  the  most  sensitive,  morbid,  and  fas- 
tidious disposition,  which  rendered  him  a  mark  for 
the  other  students  to  play  tricks  on.  In  particular 
he  had  a  tremendous  dread  of  fire,  and  had  rigged 


214  ON   THE   CAM. 

a  fire-escape  connecting  with  this  very  window. 
His  fellow-students  went  beneath  one  night  and 
raised  a  terrific  cry  of  "  fire,"  and  poor  Gray,  has- 
tily getting  his  fire-escape  in  order,  descended,  and 
found  ready  to  receive  him  a  tub  of  cold  water. 
These  and  other  tricks  so  disgusted  him,  that  he 
migrated,  as  the  term  is,  to  Pembroke. 

The  chapel  of  Peterhouse,  though  not  very 
striking  outside,  has  some  great  attractions  within. 
The  east  window,  representing  the  Crucifixion,  is 
a  very  fine  specimen  of  the  ancient  style  of  colored 
glass,  and  the  eight  side  windows  are  equally  beau- 
tiful examples  of  the  elegant  Munich  glass,  so  bril- 
liant in  color,  so  lifelike  in  design,  so  vivid  in  con- 
ception, and  of  which  such  an  attractive  specimen 
has  recently  been  presented  to  one  of  our  most 
ancient  and  honored  churches  by  the  munificence 
of  our  esteemed  fellow  citizen,  by  whose  authority 
these  lectures  are  addressed  to  you,  the  Hon.  John 
A.  Lowell. 

Crossing  the  street  from  Peterhouse,  and  going 
a  little  farther  on,  we  follow  Gray  in  his  migration, 
for  we  are  now  before  the  old  front  of  Pembroke 
College  This  was  founded  in  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury by  the  widow  of  Aymer  de  Valence,  Earl  of 
Pembroke,  a  distinguished  hero  in  the  times  of 
Wallace  and  Bruce,  and  well  known  to  all  who 
have  ever  waded  through  Castle  Dangerous,  that 
sad  monument  of  the  decay  of  the  transcendent 
genius  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.     A  large  part  of  the 


LECTURE    VII.  215 

original  buildings  still  remains,  and  is  nearly  tum- 
bling to  pieces.  The  little  retired  second  court, 
and  part  of  the  first,  are  wholly  covered  with  ivy, 
forming  a  lovely  picture  on  the  outside,  but  pain- 
fully suggestive  of  damp  within.  Pembroke  is 
famous  for  possessing  some  curious  waterworks  in 
the  fellows'  garden,  and  also  a  hollow  sphere  capa- 
ble of  holding  several  persons,  and  made  to  illus- 
trate the  mechanism  of  the  earth  in  its  daily  and 
yearly  path.  It  has  educated  a  very  large  number 
of  distinguished  men,  among  whom  are  the  martyr 
Ridley  and  William  Pitt  the  younger.  It  has 
also  done  itself  honor  by  bestowing  its  fellowships 
in  many  cases  on  distinguished  members  of  other 
colleges,  among  whom  the  poet  Gray,  as  afore- 
said, and  Professor  Adams,  "  the  other  discov- 
erer of  Neptune,"  are  among  the  most  renowned. 
It  is  one  of  the  pleasantest  and  most  respectable 
little  colleges  in  Cambridge,  and  its  fellowships, 
though  very  few,  are  among  the  richest ;  but  the 
fellows  prefer,  year  after  year,  to  enjoy  these  large 
funds  as  they  are,  to  dividing  them  into  a  greater 
number  of  less  value  and  thus  providing  the  means 
of  rewarding  a  greater  number  of  students. 

Recrossing  Trumpington  Street,  we  soon  come 
to  the  handsome  front  of  the  I'itt  Press.  This  is 
one  of  the  most  prominent  buildings  in  Cambridge, 
and,  like  King's  College  Chapel,  may  be  seen  from 
a  long  distance  on  a  clear  day,  gleaming  like  silver 
in  the  sunlight.      It  is  merely  an   ornamental  front 


216  ON  THE   CAM. 

to  the  printing-office  behind,  and  was  built  with 
the  surplus  of  the  fund  raised  for  erecting  a  statue 
to  William  Pitt.  This  press  enjoyed  for  a  long 
time,  and  to  a  certain  extent  does  still,  in  common 
with  the  University  Press  at  Oxford,  and  that  of  a 
single  publisher  in  London,  the  exclusive  right  of 
printing  and  publishing  English  Bibles  and  Prayer- 
Books.  The  printing  at  the  Pitt  Press,  especially 
the  Greek,  is  of  remarkable  beauty.  In  fact  the 
air  of  Cambridge  University,  whether  in  England 
or  America,  seems  favorable  to  the  production  of 
beautiful  press-work. 

Turning  to  the  left  down  the  street  at  the 
corner  of  which  the  Pitt  Press  stands,  and  taking 
the  first  turn  to  the  right,  we  find  ourselves  oppo- 
site the  front  of  Queens'  College.  This  college  was 
founded  by  the  haughty  and  unfortunate  Margaret 
of  Anjou,  Queen  of  Henry  VI.,  and  her  founda- 
tion was  patronized  and  enlarged  by  her  succes- 
sor, Elizabeth  Woodville,  Queen  of  Edward  IV. 
These  two  lovely  and  unhappy  queens,  who  will 
forever  live  to  assail  each  other  in  the  burning 
lines  of  Richard  the  Third,  are  here  united  in  the 
noble  work  of  charity.  The  college  by  them  jointly 
founded  is  one  of  the  most  curious,  and  to  many, 
the  most  attractive  in  Cambridge.  The  first  court 
is  a  fine  specimen  of  the  architecture  of  the  Re- 
naissance ;  the  chapel  is  filled  with  curious  monu- 
mental brasses.  On  the  right  opens  a  broad,  sunny 
court,  with  well-arranged  flower-beds  and  a  noble 


LECTURE  vn.  217 

walnut-tree  in  the  centre.  Behind  the  hall  is  the 
second  court,  a  quaint  old  pile  of  buildings  sur- 
rounded by  a  low  cloister,  where  the  sun  seems  to 
lie  all  the  day.  On  the  right  is  the  lodge  occupied 
by  the  President ;  for  Queens'  is  the  only  college 
at  Cambridge  where  this  tenn  is  used  instead  of 
Master.  It  contains  an  old  picture-gallery  of  rare 
attractions.  The  buildings  in  this  court  touch  the 
river,  and  you  emerge  from  them  upon  a  very 
quaint  wooden  bridge  of  one  arch,  carrying  you 
over  into  a  lovely  garden  or  rather  wilderness, 
where  there  is  a  broad  gravel  walk  along  the  bank 
of  the  river,  with  a  view  opposite  of  a  smooth 
shaven  bowling-green,  backed  by  many  a  range  of 
majestic  and  quaint  buildings,  while  through  the 
arch  of  the  next  bridge  a  glimpse  is  offered  of  the 
rich  masses  of  foliage  along  the  Cam,  overtopped 
by  the  majestic  towers  of  King's.  Returning  to 
the  court  we  see  in  one  corner  the  tower  from 
which  sounded  the  blasts  of  that  silver  trumpet 
that  blew  down  the  accursed  Avail  that  mediaeval 
schoolmen  had  built  up  around  the  treasures  of 
learning.  Often  and  often  have  devout  scholars 
gazed  with  reverence  on  the 

"  lamp  at  midnight  hour 
Seen  from  that  high  lonely  tower." 

but  even  in  the  affection  they  bore  its  master, 
hardly  dreamed  that  it  was  indeed  a  lijjit  shining 
in  a  dark  place,  which  should  shine  brighter  and 
brighter  unto  the  perfect  day  of  truth  and  science 
10 


218  ON   THE   CAM. 

and  liberty,  —  for  that  room  was  the  home  of 
learning  when  learning  seemed  lost  to  Cambridge, 
that  lamp  was  the  lamp  of  Erasmus. 

Passing  out  of  this  most  interesting  college,  which 
of  late,  though  it  has  produced  some  splendid  mathe- 
maticians, has  for  some  unexplained  reason  been 
greatly  lowered  in  general  estimation,  we  come  to 
the  front  of  St.  Catherine's  College.  We  enter  and 
find  ourselves  in  a  very  large  court,  surrounded 
on  three  sides  by  ordinary  brick  buildings,  and 
open  on  the  fourth  to  Trumpington  Street,  into 
which  we  pass,  for  there  is  nothing  in  St.  Cather- 
ine's, or  Cat's,  as  it  is  commonly  called,  to  detain 
us.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  street  is  the  im- 
posing front  of  Corpus  Christi  College,  a  building 
in  the  impurer  style  of  modern  Gothic,  but  very 
effective  from  the  magnitude  of  its  proportions.  It 
admits  us  into  a  very  spacious  court,  one  of  the 
most  ambitious  in  the  University,  but  inferior  in 
picturesqucness  to  the  second  court  at  the  side, 
which  is  wholly  embowered  in  ivy.  From  this  we 
pass  out  by  a  side  entrance,  leading  us  to  St. 
BeneYs  Church,  from  whose  contiguity  the  col- 
lege was  often  called  Bene't  College.  In  the  time 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,  the  master  was  Dr.  Jegon,  a 
man  of  considerable  strictness.  Some  of  the  foun- 
dation scholars  having  committed  an  offence  for 
which  they  were  heavily  fined,  Dr.  Jegon  de- 
voted the  proceeds  to  various  needed  repairs  of 
the  buildings.  Soon  after  he  found  pasted  up  a 
paper  whereon  was  writ  — 


lecture  vn.  219 

"  Dr.  Jegon,  Bene't  College  Master, 
Broke  the  scholars'  heads,  and  gave  the  walls  a  plaster." 

The  Doctor  wrote  underneath,  — 

"  Knew  I  but  the  wag  that  wrote  this  verse  in  bravery, 
I'd  commend  him  for  his  wit,  but  whip  him  for  his  knavery." 

Corpus  Christ!  is  now  a  flourishing  college,  distin- 
guished for  educating  poor  young  men,  especially 
from  the  great  cities.  Its  members,  consequently, 
take  a  strongly  radical,  all  but  agrarian  tone,  in 
debates  at  the  Union. 

Passing  by  St.  Bene't's  Church  into  Bene't 
Street,  we  turn  into  King's  Parade,  which,  how- 
ever, is  only  a  wider  portion  of  the  one  main  street 
of  Cambridge,  which  we  have  already  known,  in 
parts,  as  Trinity,  St.  John's,  and  Trumpington 
Streets.  The  whole  space  on  our  left,  from  the 
opening  of  Bene't  Street  to  Senate-House  Green, 
is  occupied  by  the  buildings  of  King's  College.  It 
consists  principally  of  a  long  ornamented  wall, 
called  a  screen,  in  the  worst  style  of  the  modern 
Gothic,  and  exhibiting  in  its  centre  a  vast  gate- 
lodge  and  archway,  surmounted  by  a  mass  of  pin- 
nacles, which  look  like  nothing  but  a  wine-bottle 
between  four  classes.  Passing  through  this  mar- 
vellous  structure,  we  enter  a  vast  quadrangle.  On 
our  right,  is  a  range  of  buildings  in  the  same  style 
of  architecture  as  the  screen,  containing  rooms  for 
the  undergraduates,  the  hall,  library,  and  provosts' 
lodge.      In  front,  is  the  fellows'  quarters,  a   Palla- 


220  ON  THE  CAM. 

dian  structure,  very  well  proportioned,  and  ele- 
gant in  itself,  but  -wholly  out  of  keeping  with  the 
older  and  newer  parts  of  the  college.  On  the  left 
of  the  quadrangle  is  the  chapel. 

I  have  already  alluded  to  this  more  than  once 
in  terms  of  the  highest  praise  ;  but  I  might  allude 
to  it  again  and  again,  and  never  exhaust  the  sub- 
ject.  The  first  feeling  that  strikes  you  is  the  per- 
fect proportion  of  the  whole  structure ;  and  this  is 
an  impression  which  every  subsequent  examination 
serves  to  confirm.  The  next  is  its  vastness.  As 
you  contemplate  it  from  the  other  side  of  the  court, 
you  notice  all  along  the  sides,  built  in  between  each 
pair  of  buttresses,  what  seem  like  small  nooks,  or 
cellar  windows,  and  are  amazed  to  find  on  ap- 
proaching them  that  they  are  three  or  four  times 
higher  than  the  passer  by.  Externally  the  build- 
ing measures  three  hundred  and  sixteen  feet  by 
eighty-four.  Its  height  to  the  top  of  the  battle- 
ments is  ninety,  and  to  the  top  of  the  four  heaven- 
kissing  pinnacles  one  hundred  and  forty-six. 
These  dimensions  are  greatly  lessened  internally 
by  the  tremendous  thickness  of  the  walls.  It  is 
one  vast  nave,  divided  in  the  centre  by  a  heavy 
oak  screen,  above  which  is  the  organ,  the  chapel 
proper  being  raised  two  steps,  paved  with  black 
marble,  and  filled  with  splendid  oak  carving.  On 
each  side,  twelve  magnificent  windows  of  the 
finest  stained  glass  of  Henry  VIII. 's  time,  and  at 
the  end  a  still  more  splendid  one  of  grander  pro- 


lecture  vn.  221 

portions,  cast  an  awful  glory  over  the  'whole.  All 
around,  the  solid  stone  is  wrought  into  ten  thou- 
sand decorations,  where  reign  pre-eminent  the 
rose,  the  portcullis,  and  the  crown,  badges  of  the 
unhappy  house  of  Lancaster.  Far  above,  the  solid 
stone  roof  descends  into  a  hundred  pendants,  all, 
together  with  the  massy  columns  that  uphold  it, 
sculptured  into  countless  fantasies,  and  bringing 
most  vividly  to  mind  the  exquisite  conceit  of  Scott, 

how 

"  You  would  have  thought  some  fairy  hand 
'Twixt  poplar  straight  the  osier  wand 
In  many  a  freakish  knot  had  twined, 
Then  framed  a  spell  when  the  work  was  done, 
And  changed  the  willow  wreaths  to  stone." 

And  when  the  anthem  is  rising  and  swelling  in 
floods  of  harmony  through  all  the  resounding  vault, 
the  still  more  entrancing  picture  of  Milton  bursts 
upon  you,  as  he  wrote  it  in  the  glory  of  his  match- 
less youth,  and  full  of  the  recollections  of  his  Alma 
Mater,  — 

"  But  let  my  due  feet  never  fail 

To  walk  the  studious  cloisters  pale, 

And  love  the  high  embowed  roof, 

With  antique  pillars  massy  proof, 

And  storied  windows  richly  dight, 

Casting  a  dim,  religious  light  : 

There  let  the  pealing  organ  blow, 

To  the  full-voiced  quire  below, 

In  service  high,  and  anthems  clear, 

As  may  with  sweetness,  through  mine  ear, 

Dissolve  me  into  ecstasies, 

And  bring  all  heaven  before  mine  eyes." 


222  ON   THE  CAM. 

Having  finished  —  but  ten  years  would  not  com- 
plete —  the  survey  of  this  glorious  chapel,  let  us 
ascend  the  turret,  and  pass  between  the  roofs. 
Over  the  solid  stone  roof  we  have  just  admired,  is 
a  passage  the  whole  length  of  the  chapel,  four  or 
five  feet  high,  beneath  the  outer  roof.  Ascending 
to  this,  a  most  magnificent  view  of  Cambridge  is 
before  us.  You  can  look  down  into  the  court- 
yards and  see  everything  that  goes  on,  —  for  there 
is  not  a  place  in  the  University  of  which  the  ma- 
jestic towers  are  not  watchful  guardians. 

King's  College,  one  of  the  very  richest  in  the 
University,  has,  till  lately,  been  of  a  very  excep- 
tional character.  When  King  Henry  VI.  founded 
it,  he  founded  also,  as  Gray  has  let  us  know,  the 
great  public  school  on  the  bank  of  the  Thames, 
commonly  known  as  Eton  College.  At  this  school, 
which  generally  numbers  in  all  more  than  700 
boys  studying  there,  a  large  number,  called  King's 
College,  are  educated  free,  from  King  Henry's 
foundation.  Every  year  one  or  more  of  these,  not 
generally  more  than  three  or  four  in  all,  were  chosen 
to  the  scholarships  of  King's  Colleges,  and  in  time 
advanced  to  fellowships.  And  all  this  magnificent 
foundation  was  entirely  for  the  fifteen  scholars, 
and  sixty  or  seventy  fellows, — there  being  no 
pensioners  or  ordinary  undergraduates  at  all,  and 
no  members  on  the  foundation  coming  from  any- 
where but  a  limited  part  of  one  school  !  King's 
College,  however,  has  already  been  put  on  a  more 


LECTURE   VII.  223 

liberal  footing,  and  it  is  supposed  in  time  will  be 
thrown  open  to  all  the  world,  like  the  other  col- 
leges. This  Eton  preparation  makes  admirable 
classical  scholars  of  the  King's  men,  but  it  is  only 
till  lately  that  they  had  a  full  opportunity  to  show 
it,  for,  according  to  the  old  constitution,  a  King's 
College  man  received  his  degree  from  the  Univer- 
sity without  an  examination,  and  was,  in  other 
ways,  not  amenable  to  University  authority.  But 
all  this  is  now  changed. 

Let  us  go  to  the  back  of  King's  College,  and 
stand  on  its  ancient  bridge.  The  view  is  indeed 
beautiful.  You  have  in  front  the  whole  range 
of  buildings,  —  Queens'  College,  King's  College, 
Clare  College,  St.  Mary's  Church,  the  Senate- 
House,  all  peeping  out  of  foliage,  or  standing 
proudly  on  their  smooth  lawns.  At  your  feet  are 
the  spacious  grounds  of  King's,  shelving  down  to 
the  stream  dotted  with  a  score  of  gay  pleasure- 
craft.  Down  the  river  the  graceful  stone  bridges 
of  Clare  and  Trinity  hide  between  them  a  mon- 
strosity belonging  to  the  town,  and  still  lower 
down  the  vista  is  completed  by  the  rich  front  of 
St.  John's  new  buildings.  Crossing  the  bridge 
we  pass  for  a  moment  along  the  road  running  be- 
hind the  colleges,  and  turn  into  the  ancient  ave- 
nue of  Clare,  one  of  the  prettiest  walks  in  Cam- 
bridge. It  ends  on  the  very  elegant  bridge  hist 
described,  by  which  we  recross  the  river,  and  soon 
stand  in  the  single  court  of  Clare  College.      This 


224  ON  THE  CAM. 

college  is  one  of  the  most  ancient,  but  its  buildings 
are  a  very  choice  specimen  of  the  architecture  of 
Inigo  Jones's  time.  Everybody  is  struck  with  the 
neatness,  finish,  and  perfect  respectability  of  Clare, 
—  but  there  is  nothing  very  remarkable  connected 
with  its  history.  Passing  out  of  Clare,  we  see  be- 
fore us  a  very  ancient  gateway  of  Gothic  archi- 
tecture, through  which  there  is  now  a  passage  to 
the  Woodwardian  Museum  of  Geology.  It  is  part 
of  an  ancient  building,  called  the  Schools,  contain- 
ing rooms  where  the  public  instruction  and  exam- 
ination of  the  University  was  formerly  given.  A 
little  farther  on,  is  the  entrance  to  Trinity  Hall. 
I  have  already  spoken  to  you  of  this  college  as 
at  one  time  entirely  given  to  the  study  of  the 
civil  law.  It  was  then  in  a  very  lax  state,  hardly 
acknowledging  any  rules  at  all.  Of  late,  however, 
it  has  taken  a  great  start.  The  Senior  Wrangler 
of  the  last  year  —  1863  —  was  from  Trinity 
Hall,  and  though  it  is  very  poor,  it  is  making 
glorious  exertions.  It  is,  at  present,  very  much 
distinguished  as  a  boating  college.  It  is  said  that 
one  or  two  summers  ago,  a  gentleman  called  at 
the  gate  with  a  view  to  placing  his  son  there.  He 
asked  the  porter  for  the  tutor,  Mr.  Latham.  "  O, 
he's  gone  down  to  see  the  boats,  sir!"  — "  O, 
well,  Mr.  Stephen."'  —  "  O,  sir,"  with  a  look  of 
utter  astonishment ;  "  why,  he  's  a-coaching  our 
boat,  sir."  Coaching  is  the  regular  term  for  all 
instruction.     "  Well,  then,  I  suppose  I  must  ask 


LECTURE  vn.  225 

for  the  master,  Dr.  Geldart."  — "  Well,  sir,  I 
think  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Geldart  has  driv  down  to  the 
boats,  sir."  Further  cross-examination  demonstrat- 
ed that  there  was  nobody  in  college  but  the  por- 
ter himself,  and  another  college  servant  who  was 
paralytic.  The  gentleman  concluded  he  would  go 
on  to  some  other  college,  where  they  didn't  go  in 
for  things  with  quite  so  much  energy.  Trinity 
Hall  is  indeed  a  hearty,  jolly  place,  governed  and 
inhabited  by  a  splendid  set  of  men,  whose  main 
fault  is  that  they  are  given,  after  very  noisy  sup- 
pers, to  going  out  at  nine  or  ten  o'clock  into  the 
courtyard,  and  shouting  for  half  an  hour,  on  the 
slightest  provocation,  and  frequently  on  none  at 
all.  At  least,  I  have  known  them  do  it  the  night 
their  boat  became  head  of  the  river,  and  the  night 
she  was  bumped  as  well. 

Cambridge  has  loner  been  celebrated  for  the 
number  and  excellence  of  its  mixed  drinks  and 
possets,  brewed  on  a  basis  of  generous  wines, 
admirable  hot  in  the  winter  evenings,  and  still 
more  admirable  cold  after  breakfast,  or  during 
whist.  The  very  best  of  these,  in  fact  the  only 
ones  deserving  the  name,  are  brewed  at  Trinity 
Hall  butteries,  and  furnished  in  glorious  old  silver 
craters.  The  Greek  word  is  the  only  exact  one. 
If  you  doubt  it,  go  there  and  order  a  Madeira  cup. 

The  buildings  of  Trinity  Hall  are  in  no  way 
remarkable,  but  they  have  a  lovely  fellows'  garden 
alons  the  river. 

10*  O 


226  ON   THE   CAM. 

Passing  out  of  the  second  court,  we  see  in  front 
of  us  a  heavy  pile  of  brick  buildings,  evidently- 
new.  It  is  the  hall  of  the  last  college  on  our  list, 
Gonville  and  Caius,  always  called  by  a  peculiar 
mispronunciation  of  the  last  name,  Keys.  To  en- 
ter it  to  our  own  satisfaction  we  must  pass  down 
the  lane  to  the  left,  and  turning  into  Trinity 
Street,  we  soon  arrive  at  a  very  low  archway. 
When  Dr.  Kaye  Latinized  his  name  into  Caius 
and  increased  Edmund  Gonville's  foundation,  he 
established  three  gates  with  an  allegorical  mean- 
ing.  The  first  is  the  one  by  which  we  enter. 
One  of  the  last  times  I  went  in  was  with  a  Boston 
friend,  well-known  in  editorial  circles.  "  This," 
said  I,  "is  the  gate  of  Humility;"  and  as  I  said 
it,  my  editorial  friend,  not  understanding  the  full 
force  of  the  remark,  hit  his  elegant  beaver  a  most 
fearful  smash  against  the  low  arch  of  the  gate  of 
Humility.  You  come  into  a  curious  irregular 
shaped  court-yard,  with  a  few  strange  old  build- 
ings in  it,  roughly  paved,  and  planted  with  trees. 
In  front  a  more  imposing  gateway  greets  you,  and 
as  you  pass  through  its  ample  arch,  you  see  by  the 
Latin  inscription,  that  it  is  known  as  the  gate  of 
Wisdom  and  Virtue.  It  leads  you  into  the  second 
court.  Both  this  and  a  third  court  on  the  right 
are  extremely  common  in  their  appearance,  and 
quite  unworthy  of  the  college,  which  ranks  as  the 
third  in  size  at  Cambridge,  and  is  much  resorted 
to  by  two  sets  of  men.     First,  persons  preparing 


LECTURE   VII.  227 

for  the  medical  profession,  for  which  great  incen- 
tives to  study  are  offered  at  Caius ;  and,  second, 
persons  of  the  Low  Church  party.  Of  these 
Caius  is  the  stronghold  in  Cambridge.  The  new 
hall  is  very  fine,  quite  worthy  of  the  college  which 
had  the  honor  to  educate  William  Harvey,  the 
discoverer  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood. 

Finally,  we  turn  to  the  left  from  the  second 
court  and  leave  it  by  Dr.  Kaye's  third  gate,  that 
of  Honor.  It  is  elegantly  decorated,  and  one  of 
the  prettiest  of  the  smaller  objects  in  Cambridge. 
You  have  now  completed  with  me  the  rounds  of 
the  colleges,  and  should  you  feel  fatigued,  we  are 
at  the  very  entrance  of  the  University  Library, 
where  you  can  go  in  and  rest ;  and  I  will  leave 
you  there  for  the  present,  as  you  will  hardly  be 
able  to  read  through  all  the  two  hundred  and  odd 
thousand  volumes  before  next  Friday  night. 


VIII. 

GREAT   MEN   OF    CAMBRIDGE   BEFORE    1688. 

Erasmus  and  early  Scholars.  —  Reformers.  —  Elizabethan 
Statesmen  and  Poets.  —  Sir  Edward  Coke.  —  Transla- 
tors of  the  Bible.  —  Bacon.  —  New  England  Puritans. 
—  Strafford.  —  Cromwell.  —  Milton. 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen  :  — 

In  my  last  three  lectures  I  have  endeavored  to 
fulfil  my  promise  of  giving  you  some  insight  into 
the  actual  condition  of  the  Cambridge  students, 
their  ordinary  and  extraordinary  mode  of  life,  as  it 
is  in  the  largest  and  most  important  college,  with  a 
glimpse  at  the  peculiarities  in  colleges  smaller,  but 
not  on  that  account  of  less  marked  individuality. 
But  you  will  see  at  once  that  if  we  stopped  here, 
we  should  obtain  but  an  imperfect  idea  of  what  the 
Cambridge  man  truly  is.  The  undergraduate  life, 
though  a  picture  singularly  curious,  •  interesting, 
may  I  not  say  lovely  to  any  warm-hearted  ob- 
server, is  yet  rather  the  promise  than  the  reality. 
The  young  men  themselves,  exercised  in  college 
studies,  excited  by  college  amusements,  absorbed 
by  college  companionships,  realize  but  little  the 
influences  they  are  going  through.  The  lessons 
learnt  at  Cambridge,  about  the  age  when  the  law 


LECTURE   VIII.  229 

allows  the  privileges  of  manhood,  are  often  not  put 
in  practice  till  many  years,  and  perhaps  many  miles, 
separate  the  graduate  from  his  Alma  Mater.  And 
since  the  University  is  confessedly  and  avowedly 
a  training  school,  we  must  look  to  those  who  have 
been  her  sons,  rather  than  those  who  are,  for  the 
full  value  of  her  lessons.  For  instance,  if  a  Bos- 
tonian  sought  to  impress  a  stranger  with  the  value 
of  the  education  given  at  Harvard,  he  would  not 
dwell  so  much  on  the  varied  and  interesting  and 
improving  course  of  study  pursued  there,  or  on  its 
administration  by  a  most  intelligent  and  conscien- 
tious body  of  instructors,  or  on  the  annual  resort 
made  there  by  the  most  promising  offspring  of  the 
most  honored  families.  No  ;  rather  on  its  past  his- 
tory, —  on  its  having  been  the  mother  of  so  many 
renowned  sons,  —  on  its  having  sent  forth  the  fa- 
thers of  the  American  Revolution,  Otis  and  War- 
ren, and  the  five  brave  men  of  Massachusetts 
whose  names  stand  on  the  charter  of  '76 ;  that  it 
was  the  home  of  our  great  historians,  Sparks  and 
Bancroft  and  Prescott  and  Motley,  —  that  the  long 
series  of  the  Massachusetts  Chief  Justices,  that 
have  placed  the  decisions  of  her  courts  at  the  very 
head  of  the  common  law  authorities,  went  forth 
from  its  walls,  —  that  in  the  space  of  one  hundred 
and  ninety-three  years  it  has  not  once  had  to  go 
out  of  its  own  graduates  to  seek  a  presiding  offi- 
cer over  the  gallant  youth  intrusted  to  it. 

And  so,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  you  will  at  once 


230  ON   THE   CAM. 

recognize  that  I  shall  present  to  you  a  most  impor- 
tant view  of  the  value  of  Cambridge  life  and  edu- 
cation, when  I  recall  to  you  in  this  lecture  and 
the  following  the  names  and  services  of  the  great 
men  of  England  that  have  been  educated  at  Cam- 
bridge, and  thus  fulfil  the  second  part  of  my  en- 
gagement of  the  other  night,  to  show  you  what 
manner  of  men  have  been  inmates  of  her  halls  in 
times  past. 

In  this  investigation  I  shall  not  attempt  to  trace 
the  sons  of  Cambridge  into  the  Middle  Ages.  True 
that  it  was  even  in  those  misty  times  one  of  the 
few  places  where  the  rays  of  the  sun  of  truth  did 
penetrate  the  gloom,  but  its  history  is  too  uncer- 
tain, and  the  part  played  by  University  men  in  the 
struggles  of  those  stormy  times  too  insignificant,  to 
detain  us  long.  The  Reve's  tale  in  Chaucer  pre- 
sents us  with  a  very  lively  though  very  coarse  pic- 
ture of  the  manners  of  the  undergraduates.  That, 
together  with  the  tradition  that  Chaucer  himself 
studied  there,  must  suffice  us  till  we  come  to  the 
period  of  the  revival  of  learning  and  the  Reforma- 
tion of  the  Church. 

And  these  two  great  movements  of  the  human 
mind  furnish  a  most  appropriate  introduction  to 
the  history  of  the  great  men  of  Cambridge.  From 
the  moment  that  the  torch  of  truth  was  brought  to 
the  shores  of  England,  the  sons  of  Cambridge  leapt 
forth  to  seize  the  precious  flame  and  bear  it  on, 
blazing   brighter   and  brighter,  to  generations  of 


lecture  vni.  231 

Englishmen  yet  to  come.  The  greatest  name 
connected  with  the  revival  of  learning  —  in  some 
respects  the  greatest  name  in  modern  literature  — 
is  indissolubly  associated  with  Cambridge,  that  of 
the  mighty  Erasmus.  He  is  not  the  earliest  of  all 
the  scholars  in  the  new  field  of  Greek  literature,  — 
possibly  not  the  most  learned.  But  no  one  man 
ever  did  so  much  to  spread  such  a  wealth  of  learn- 
ing over  such  a  great  part  of  Europe  as  Erasmus. 
After  his  fame  had  become  established  throughout 
the  Western  world,  after  he  had  finished  that  lonoc 
and  laborious  course  of  study  that  made  him  mas- 
ter of  the  treasures  of  all  ancient  lore,  he  came  to 
reside  at  Cambridge,  in  the  second  court  of  Queens' 
College,  and  was  appointed  to  the  professorships 
of  Greek  and  Divinity.  The  arrival  of  such  a 
man,  with  such  a  reputation,  at  once  struck  the 
death-blow  at  the  monsters  of  mediaeval  quibbling 
that  had  so  long  held  undisputed  pre-eminence  in 
the  schools  at  Cambridge,  and  the  new  study  of 
classical  literature  began  its  triumphant  march. 
Erasmus  himself  did  not  remain  more  than  a  few 
years  at  Cambridge.  It  was  not  for  the  Coryphaeus 
of  literature  to  give  his  whole  life  to  any  one  place. 
But  his  spirit  remained  and  a  brilliant  race  of  schol- 
ars succeeded,  the  worthy  precursors  of  the  great 
lights  of  later  davs.  Of  these  the  most  distinmiish- 
eel  were  three,  who  were  selected  as  tutors  to  three 
grandchildren  of  Henry  VII.,  Sir  John  Cheke, 
tutor  to  Edward  VI.,  John  A ylmer,  tutor  to  Lady 


232  ON  THE  CAM. 

Jane  Grey,  aud  Roger  Ascham,  tutor  to  Queen 
Elizabeth.  It  is  beautiful  to  notice  in  the  lives  of 
these  men  the  softening  influence  of  a  new  and 
free  course  of  study,  a  protest  against  the  verbal 
formalities  of  an  earlier  age.  In  the  "  Schoolmas- 
ter "  of  Roger  Ascham,  we  find  an  eloquent  de- 
nunciation of  the  cruel  usage  of  scholars  by  their 
teachers ;  and  in  the  letters  of  Lady  Jane  Grey  it 
is  related  how  engaging  was  the  gentleness  of  John 
Aylmer  as  opposed  to  the  severity  of  her  parents,  — 
the  "  pinches,  nips,  and  bobs "  with  which  Lord 
and  Lady  Dorset  sought  to  train  the  tenderest 
soul  that  ever  died  to  appease  a  woman's  hate. 
Alas !  three  hundred  years  have  had  their  effect, 
and  even  Latin  and  Greek  masters  in  England 
now  avail  themselves  too  often  of  these  same 
"  pinches,  nips,  and  bobs." 

Nor  was  Cambridge  behind  hand  in  the  work 
of  the  English  Reformation.  Sad  indeed  is  it  to 
think  that  the  glorious  reviver  of  literature,  so 
nobly  qualified  to  be  also  the  reviver  of  Gospel 
truth,  should  have  let  himself  be  retained  in  the 
ranks  of  superstition,  against  which  his  heart  and 
his  mind  alike  revolted.  But  the  spirit  of  free  in- 
quiry which  he  had  planted  at  Cambridge  could 
not  be  destroyed.  The  names  which  we  are  most 
accustomed  to  associate  with  the  fires  of  martyr- 
dom, the  learned  and  energetic  Ridley,  the  poli- 
tic and  adroit  Cranraer,  the  honest  and  intrepid 
Latimer,  all  testified  to  the  value  of  Cambridge 


LECTURE  vni.  233 

training  by  their  deaths  in  the  market-place  of  Ox- 
ford. In  the  succeeding  generations,  the  haughty 
prelates  that  upheld  the  hands  of  Elizabeth  in  her 
struggle  with  Puritanism,  Whitgift,  and  Grindall, 
and  Parker,  were  all  faithful  sons  of  Cambridge. 
Again  and  again  raised  to  positions  of  authority  in 
Church  and  State,  yet  their  proudest  titles  are 
written  in  the  books  of  their  mother's  colleges, 
where  their  constant  transfer  from  one  fellowship 
to  another  shows  how  eagerly  the  halls  that  knew 
their  early  promise  vied  with  each  other  to  do 
honor  to  their  majestic  maturity. 

We  may  hesitate  before  we  accord  high  praise 
to  the  characters  of  those  divines  who  attempted  to 
force  the  hated  yoke  of  an  alien  religion  on  the 
necks  of  the  dauntless  confessors  who  paid,  with 
country,  liberty,  and  life,  for  their  adherence  to  a 
simpler  worship.  A  much  more  ample  meed  of 
honor  are  we  ready  to  bestow  upon  that  wonder- 
ful group  of  civilians  and  courtiers  that  surrounds 
the  throne  of  Elizabeth  :  — 

"  Girt  with  many  a  baron  bold, 
Sublime  their  starry  fronts  they  rear, 
And  gorgeous  dames,  and  statesmen  old, 
In  bearded  majesty  appear." 

There  we  behold  Walsingham,  the  accomplished, 
the  adroit,  the  high-minded,  upholding  the  interest 
of  the  cause  of  liberty,  and  the  United  Provinces, 
against  all  the  parsimony  and  coquetry  of  Eliza- 
beth ;   there  is  Nicholas  Bacon,  the  great   father 


234  ON  THE   CAM. 

of  the  greater  son,  the  faithful  friend  of  England, 
ever  in  advance  of  his  age,  steadily  rolling  back 
the  waves  of  Scottish  force  and  Spanish  fraud,  still 
holding  to  the  golden  mean,  still  faithful  to  his 
motto  of  "  Medioeria  firma" ;  there  is  Hatton, 
called  to  a  lofty  station,  because  his  grace  and  ele- 
gance had  captivated  the  woman's  heart,  yet  sus- 
taining; himself  in  a  manner  not  unworthv  of  her 
chancellor,  who  stood  alone  against  Guise  and 
Farnese,  and  Hapsburg ;  there  is  the  still  more 
accomplished,  the  still  more  elegant,  alas,  the  too 
unfortunate  son  of  glory,  as  daring  as  Frobisher, 
as  far-seeing  as  Mildmay,  as  fascinating  as  Leices- 
ter, yet  a  perfect  gentleman,  a  true  friend  of  the 
people,  a  loyal  subject  of  the  Queen,  the  brave, 
the  high-minded,  the  thrice  unhappy  Essex  ;  then, 
lastly,  surrounded  by  a  throng  of  disciples  inferior 
in  skill,  in  reputation,  in  foresight,  to  him,  but  to 
him  alone,  stands  the  ancient  treasurer,  —  the  min- 
ister for  forty  years,  the  one  man  for  whom  this 
queen  forgot  alike  caprice  and  haughtiness,  —  the 
intelligent,  the  judicious,  the  honored  Burghley. 
And  all  these  men,  and  those  who  sat  at  their  feet, 
and  drank  of  their  wisdom,  —  all  these  men  who 
sustained  the  English  state  so  long  against  the 
Escurial,  the  Louvre,  and  the  Vatican  combined, 
—  all  were  loyal,  devoted  sons  of  Cambridge.  So 
she  responded  to  the  call  of  literature  ;  so  she  re- 
sponded to  the  calls  of  the  Church  ;  and  so,  with 
tenfold  energy,  she  responded   to  the  call  of  the 


LECTURE  vin.  235 

6tate.  One  name,  indeed,  is  wanting  to  the  glory 
of  Cambridge,  —  the  only  one  that  could  have 
raised  its  glory  higher,  —  the  man  whom  no  Uni- 
versity educated,  because  no  University  could  edu- 
cate him  as  well  as  he  educated  himself,  —  the 
peerless  star  of  poetry.  Yet,  in  that  bright  con- 
stellation, which  seems  to  turn  round  that  one 
constant,  spotless  orb,  there  are  other  stars,  of  less 
magnitude,  indeed,  but  sparkling  with  a  tender 
lustre  all  their  own,  that  we  never  could  spare 
from  the  intellectual  heavens ;  and  that  one  whose 
light  is  the  purest,  whose  twinkle  is  the  merriest, 
whose  blaze  is  the  most  constant,  —  who  but  he  is 
a  son  of  Cambridge  ?  who  but  he  drew  in  the 
breath  of  poetry  on  the  banks  of  the  Cam  ?  — 
who  but  the  laureate  king  of  fairy  land  ?  —  who 
but  Edmund  Spenser  ? 

In  the  next  age,  when  for  the  pure,  breezy  air 
of  the  Elizabethan  period,  there  comes  over  us  a 
sweet  but  sickly  perfume,  fit  introduction  to  the 
deadlier  blast  of  war,  that  is  soon  to  scorch  us,  — 
Cambridge  sends  forth  many  a  gallant  son,  whose 
fresh  inspiration  of  genius  and  sound  learning 
blows  cool  and  pure  in  the  heavy  air.  Hers  are 
two  poets,  the  best  of  their  age.  Jonson,  —  glori- 
ous Ben,  —  rough  indeed,  and  rushing  into  wild 
vagaries,  but  ever  weighty,  manly,  and  teeming 
with  true  wit  and  humor  ;  and  likewise  that  gen- 
tle soul,  fettered  by  the  heartless  conceits  and 
fancies  of  his  time,  but  dear  to  every  pious  heart 


236  ON  THE   CAM. 

for  his  heavenly  resignation,  his  spotless  holiness, 
his  unfeigned  love  to  God  and  man,  the  Church's 
poet,  George  Herbert.  Hers  likewise  are  the 
masters  of  the  three  great  arts  that  rule  the 
world.  From  her  halls  came  forth  the  true  foun- 
der of  modern  anatomy,  William  Harvey,  whose 
wonderful  insight  first  caught  the  electric  flash  of 
truth  that  in  one  blaze  joined  together  all  the 
scattered  discoveries  that  men  had  been  painfully 
struggling  to  make  out  for  centuries,  and  placed 
on  an  irrefragable  basis  the  philosophy  of  the 
fountain  of  life.  Hers  is  the  mighty  Coke,  whose 
name,  in  spite  of  his  harshness,  his  perplexities, 
his  arrogance,  must  ever  be  held  up  to  the  Saxon 
world  as  the  great  master  and  expounder  of  that 
wondrous  system,  the  common  law  of  England  as 
founded  in  remote  ages  by  Gascoigne  and  Little- 
ton, sons  of  Cambridge,  and  who  deserves  still 
greater  honor,  in  spite  of  still  greater  harshness 
and  arrogance,  because  he  alone  stood  up  against 
king,  lords,  and  commons,  to  stigmatize  by  their 
right  names  the  vices  of  the  Chancellor,  and  alone, 
in  a  corrupt  age,  never  sullied  the  purity  of  the 
judicial  ermine.  And  to  her,  above  all,  belongs 
the  largest  part  of  those  sainted  fathers,  who,  in 
an  age  of  senseless  quibblings,  of  nauseous  bombast, 
of  barren  wranglings,  gave  to  the  English  world 
that  stupendous  work,  which  for  two  hundred  and 
fifty-six  years  has  stood  forth  the  noblest  specimen 
of  our  noble  language,  and  O,  a  thousandfold  better 


lecture  vm.  237 

praise,  has  been  the  solace  of  hundreds  of  millions, 
the  guide  of  youth,  the  friend  of  manhood,  the  staff 
of  age,  —  the  English  Bible. 

But  in  this  age,  so  interesting  and  yet  so  painful, 
there  is  one  name  that  arrests  the  attention  of 
every  one  with  a  peculiar  fascination,  because  it  is 
one  of  those  names  to  which  we  refer  immediately 
the  great  movements  in  the  human  mind  that  have 
made  our  age  other  and  better  than  those  before 
it.  I  mean,  of  course,  Francis  Bacon.  It  is  much 
to  be  like  Erasmus,  a  great  leader  in  a  great  time, 
standing  confessedly  far  in  advance  of  it.  It  is 
honorable,  like  Burghley,  to  take  a  position  slightly 
in  advance  of  the  age,  and  when  seeming  most  to 
yield  to  its  influence,  really  to  be  carrying  the  age 
itself  onward  little  by  little.  But  there  is  a  pecu- 
liar glory  belonging  to  that  man,  who  before  all 
others,  contrary  to  all  others,  can  feel  in  his  own 
soul  the  divine  message  which  calls  him  to  be  the  one 
deliverer  from  bondage,  the  one  guide  to  a  prom- 
ised land  ;  to  see  what  other  men  have  not  seen, 
and  cannot  see,  except  he  reveal  it ;  to  proclaim 
to  an  enslaved  and  superstitious  world  a  new  pros- 
pect of  liberty,  a  new  name  of  God  ;  to  "  speak  to 
the  children  of  Israel  that  they  go  forward,"  —  to 
assert  a  new  law  above  superstition,  above  tradi- 
tion, above  long-established  custom  ;  to  mount  to 
that  summit,  which  is  to  others  but  a  weary, 
barren  peak,  and  raising  his  eyes  northward  and 
southward  and  westward,  behold  the  fields  stand- 


238  ON   THE   CAM. 

ing  thick  with  corn,  shouting  for  joy  and  singing, 
white  with  harvest  and  waiting  but  for  the  laborers 
to  thrust  in  the  sickle,  —  the  lakes  and  rivers  flash- 
ing in  the  noonday,  and  waiting  for  the  fishers  of 
men  to  launch  out  their  ships  and  let  down  their 
nets  for  a  draught,  —  the  hillsides  clothed  up  to 
their  summits  with  thick  vines  teeming  with  the 
dark,  full-orbed  clusters,  bursting  with  the  juice 
of  life,  and  needing  but  the  manly  feet  to  tread 
the  ensanguined  wine-press,  —  the  hill  tops  shout- 
ing from  every  cleft  for  the  cities  to  be  set  on 
them  that  cannot  be  hid,  —  he  who  can  do  all 
this,  see  all  this,  declare  all  this,  he  is  the  offspring 
of  gods,  —  he  is  the  King  of  men. 

It  is  interesting  to  mark  the  soil  in  which  the 
seeds  of  greatness  are  sown.  In  the  latter  half  of 
the  sixteenth  century  the  whole  continent  of 
Europe  was  torn  by  the  strife  of  two  opposite 
factions,  Rome  and  Geneva,  —  the  bigots  and  the 
fanatics,  —  the  first  incapable  of  producing  a  re- 
former, the  second  equally  incapable  of  producing 
a  philosopher ;  and  when  the  time  came  that  the 
philosopher  and  the  reformer  must  appear  in  one 
person,  there  was  in  all  Europe  but  one  place  and 
one  body  of  men  wherein  he  could  arise.  In 
England,  in  that  company  of  grave,  studious, 
enlightened  statesmen,  equally  removed  from  big- 
otry and  fanaticism,  equally  friendly  to  progress 
and  philosophy,  seems  marked  by  the  finger  of 
providence  the  fit  nidus  for  the  imperial  seed.     I 


LECTURE  MIL  239 

have  shown  the  share  that  Cambridge  had  in 
forming  the  minds  of  Elizabeth's  counsellors.  It 
is  at  Cambridge  then  that  their  creat  inheritor 
must  be  trained,  he  must  learn  at  Cambridge  the 
same  lessons  of  gravity  and  progress  that  his  fa- 
thers learnt,  and  bring  forth  from  them  that  stu- 
pendous work,  the  revolutionizing  of  human  knowl- 
edge. Yes,  a  statesman  of  Elizabeth  must  furnish 
the  stock,  —  King  Henry's  College  must  train  and 
water.  The  son  of  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon,  the  son  of 
Trinity  College  in  Cambridge,  is  Francis  Bacon, 
the  parent  of  the  new  philosophy. 

It  must  be  in  truth  stated,  that  the  benefits 
rendered  to  the  mind  of  Bacon  by  the  studies  of 
Cambridge  was  rather  by  inspiring  a  disgust  of  the 
wrong  mode  of  training  than  love  of  the  right. 
The  exertions  of  Erasmus  for  literature  had  not 
penetrated  to  the  bottom,  and  the  sciences  it  need 
not  be  said  were  in  bondage.  Hence  Bacon  left 
Cambridge  with  a  disgust  at  the  whole  system  of 
the  schoolmen's  Aristotelianisms,  which  led  to  the 
determination  to  find  some  new  field  for  human 
thought.  This  was  well.  The  emancipation  of 
the  sciences  might  have  been  delayed  for  many 
years,  had  not  their  liberator  been  given  the 
strongest  proofs  of  the  trammels  in  which  they 
were  held  in  the  most  liberal  institution  in  the 
world.  It  is  no  disgrace  to  Cambridge  that  before 
the  new  philosophy  was  born  she  was  faithful  to 
the   old  ;  but  if  her  head  was  still   untutured  her 


240  ON   THE   CAM. 

heart  was  sound,  and  no  child  of  hers  would  ever 
have  inaugurated  the  great  reform,  if  she  had  not 
been  the  asylum  of  liberal  principles  and  generous 
impulses. 

It  is  impossible,  while  we  are  extolling  Bacon 
to  the  skies  as  the  founder  of  a  new  system  of  in- 
tellectual activity,  and  holding  up  his  name  as  an 
honor  to  his  Alma  Mater,  to  avoid  some  notice 
of  his  political  character,  and  give  our  answer  to 
the  question  that  has  exercised  so  many  minds, 
whether  the  Chancellor  is  to  sink  the  character  of 
the  Liberator  in  a  black  slough  of  odium,  or 
merely  stand  by  as  a  man  of  his  age,  amiable  but 
not  perfect,  leaving  the  Philosopher  to  shine  with 
untarnished  glory.  There  has  recently  been  made 
a  most  ingenious  attempt  by  Mr.  Hepworth  Dixon, 
to  clear  Lord  Bacon's  character  from  all  odious 
imputations.  The  spirit  in  which  such  a  work  is 
conceived  is  a  tender  one,  but  not  on  that  account 
necessarily  a  right  one.  Macaulay  has  shown 
great  reasons  for  thinking  that  spotless  integrity 
in  high  places  was  in  that  age  not  so  wholly  de- 
spised as  is  commonly  supposed,  —  that  many  vig- 
orous protests  had  for  at  least  a  century  been  ful- 
mined  in  the  ears  of  the  most  servile  courtiers  ; 
and  that  the  public  mind  was  awake  to  the  beauty 
of  purity  and  the  foulness  of  venality.  On  one 
occasion  I  heard  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
English  philosophers  admit  this,  and  urge  that  a 
man  who  received  the  unheard  of  honor  of  being 


LECTUBE   VIII.  241 

elected  to  Parliament  for  three  constituencies  at 
once,  cannot  have  been  notoriously  corrupt  in  the 
face  of  the  English  people.  I  reminded  him  that 
this  identical  unheard-of  honor  was  conferred  on 
Admiral  Russell  ninety  years  afterwards,  merely 
from  the  ebullition  of  party  feeling,  at  the  time 
when  he  sat  in  King  William's  Council  with  a  let- 
ter from  King  James  in  his  pocket.  But  in  the 
examination  of  a  character  like  Bacon  I  am  con- 
tent to  waive  all  this.  Grant  that  the  age  was 
hopelessly  corrupt,  was  Bacon  to  be  bound  by  his 
age  ?  When  struggling  in  chambers  in  the  Inns  of 
Court,  coldly  patronized  by  his  powerful  cousins, 
he  had  the  magnificent  boldness  to  assert  that  he 
had  taken  all  knowledge  to  be  his  province. 
Acting  up  to  this  declaration,  he  carried  out  his 
new  system  of  philosophy  against  England  and  the 
Continent,  against  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  against 
Leyden  and  Padua.  Knowing  that  he  could  not 
be  appreciated  in  his  own  day,  knowing,  it  would 
seem,  that  it  must  take   fifty  years  for  Newton  to 

"  Let  down  the  golden  everlasting  chain, 
Whose  strong  embrace  holds  heaven,  and  earth,  and  main;" 

that  it  must  take  a  hundred  and  thirty  years  be- 
fore Franklin  could  draw  the  lightning  from 
heaven;  that  it  must  take  over  two  centuries  be- 
fore; days  of  ceaseless  observation  and  weary  toil, 
and  nights  of  exposure  and  chill  on  the  inhospita- 
ble Alps  should  permit  that  the  colossal  mystery 
of   these    Titanic    currents,    driving    their    crystal 


242  ON   THE  CAM. 

mountains  across  the  length  and  breadth  of  nations, 
should  be  revealed  to  the  piercing  rye  of  Agassiz, 
Bacon  solemnly  bequeathed  his  works  to  the  judg- 
ment of  posterity.  And  Mich  a  man  is  to  be  judged 
by  tlic  age,  such  a  man  is  to  be  pardoned  because 
the  times  were  corrupt!  The  philosopher  could 
tear  to  rags  the  flimsy  subtleties  of  Aquinas,  and 
wrench  away  with  unlineal  hand  the  sceptre  from 
the  grasp  of  Aristotle.  But  the  Chancellor  is  to 
receive  a  compliment  alter  the  manner  of  Cecil, 
and  accept  a  consideration  by  the  pattern  of  Eger- 
ton !  Yes,  Duns  Scotus  gave  no  pounds  or  places 
it'  his  works  were  spared ;  Aristotle  ottered  no 
lands  or  peerages  in  pawn  for  his  crown  ;  and  the 
scapegrace  of  Trinity  combination-room  hurled 
them  from  their  seats  of  honor.  lint  Buckingham 
spoke  a  gracious  word,  .James  slobbered  a  fulsome 
compliment,  and  the  son  of  the  ilertforshire  baro- 
net bowed  to  the  dust  before  the  favorite  of  the 
Austrian  and  the  Solomon  of  Scotland.  (),  if 
that  transcendent  mind  had  but  "armed  itself  to 
hear"  a  single  reverse,  to  stand  by  a  single  unfortu- 
nate friend,  to  turn  from  a  single  bribe,  we  might 
have  lived  a  few  years  more  in  syllogisms  and 
quibblings,  we  might  have  had  Ilallev  and  Hunter 
each  a  centurv  later;  but  England  would  not 
have  had  to  wait  two  centuries  before  the  morality 
of  the  woolsack  became  as  pure  as  the  morality  of 
the  fireside,  nor  would  a  Dixon  and  a  Montague 
have  had  to  exert  all  their  ability  to  apologize  lor 


LECTURE   VIII.  243 

venality  against  the  indignant  reclamations  of  a 
Milman  and  a  Macaulay. 

Lord  Bacon,  Chancellor  to  James  I.,  died  in 
1G26.  In  1632  terminated  the  University  life  of 
Milton,  who  was  Secretary  to  Cromwell.  The 
intervening  six  years,  belonging  peculiarly  to  the 
reign  of  Charles  I.,  is  signalized  for  England  by 
the  foundation  of  the  Massachusetts  colony.  With- 
out detracting  the  least  from  the  sacred  devotion 
of  the  Plymouth  pilgrims  in  1020,  or  the  enter- 
prise of  the  Salem  pioneers  in  1024,  we  must  yet 
look  to  the  expedition  of  li>2(.i  as  giving  its  real 
character  to  the  settlement  of  Massachusetts  as  she 
now  is.  Observe  then,  my  friends,  how,  at  each 
successive  stage  in  the  ever-renewed  necessities  of 
human  progress,  Cambridge  stands  ready  with  the 
men.  Did  the  literary  tastes  of  England  need  re- 
formers? Cambridge  has  them  ready.  Did  the 
Church  of  England  need  learned  and  devout  men 
to  strengthen  it?  Cambridge  has  them  ready.  Did 
the  statesmanship  of  England  need  reorganization 
or  rather  creation  ?  Cambridge;  sends  forth  a  bril- 
liant body  of  men  to  do  the  work  to  the  admiration 
of  thi'  world.  And  now  that  1'rovidence  has 
brought  the  time  for  a  new  work  of  grace,  now 
that  the  oppressions  of  the  Non-conformists  have 
conic  to  that  point  of  crueltv  that  thev  cannot  be 
borne  in  England,  and  vet  have  not  so  interwoven 
theiiiM-lve.s  with  political  allairs  that  thev  can  be 
forciblv  resisted  in  England  ;  now,  in  short,  that  the 


244  ON   THE   CAM. 

"  three  kingdoms  are  to  be  sifted  to  plant  the  wil- 
derness," it  is  at  Cambridge  that  the  plan  of  the 
new  colonies  are  laid  ;  it  is  from  the  graduates  of 
Cambridge    that    the    new    colonists   go.       These 

©  © 

facts,  long  known  to  diligent  antiquaries  and  his- 
torians, are  too  much  forgotten  by  the  descendants 
of  those  men,  to  whom  the  name  of  Oxford,  the 
the  stronghold  of  intolerance,  is  more  familiar  than 
Cambridge,  the  mother  of  their  ancestors.  They 
have,  however,  been  lately  recalled  to  us  by  that 
most  interesting  monument  of  the  piety  and  rever- 
ence of  a  descendant,  who  has  embalmed  forever, 
by  the  rich  adornments  of  typography,  and  the  still 
richer  adornments  of  taste  and  genius,  the  cares, 
the  struggles,  the  affections,  the  prayers  of  the 
most  honored  of  the  founders  of  Massachusetts, 
and  added  a  new  leaf  to  the  laureate  crown  that 
encircles  the  name  of  Winthrop.  To  the  original 
documents  incorporated  in  this  most  interesting 
record  we   owe   our  knowledge   of  the   fact  that 

© 

John  Winthrop,  Governor  of  Massachusetts,  by 
many  supposed  to  have  been  unconnected  with 
either  University,  was  in  fact  a  member  of  Trinity 
College,  Cambridge,  and,  though  his  academic 
course  Avas  prematurely  closed,  always  retained 
a  friendly  intercourse  with  the  old  halls.  And  of 
the  brave,  the  learned,  the  pious  men  who  accom- 
panied or  immediately  followed  him,  by  far  the 
majority  were  graduates  of  Cambridge  ;  and  it  is 
truly  a  delight  to  me  to  recall  some  of  their  names 


lecture  vm.  245 

to  you,  and  if  I  can,  forge  another  link  in  that 
golden  chain  whereby  I  seek  to  connect  indisso- 
lubly  my  country  and  my  University. 

Of  the  brave  and  wise  laymen,  who  assisted  Win- 
throp  in  laying  the  foundations  of  the  infant  govern- 
ment, few  hud  a  college  education.  Few  civilians 
had  adopted  the  doctrines  of  the  Puritans  in  that 
class  which  attended  the  Universities.  There  are 
two  names,  however,  distinguished  in  the  admin- 
istration of  affairs  ;  —  the  venerable  Simon  Brad- 
street,  the  last  of  the  colonists,  whom  the  people  of 
Massachusetts  chose  for  their  governor,  in  place 
of  the  tyrant  imported  by  the  Stuarts  ;  he  was  a 
son  of  Emmanuel  College;  —  and  Hugh  Peters, 
who,  casting  in  his  lot  for  some  years  with  New 
England,  returned  to  his  own  country  to  share  in 
yet  fiercer  troubles,  and  was  one  of  those  fearless 
men  that  signed  the  death-warrant  of  the  public 
enemy  and  traitor  Charles  Stuart.  But  it  is 
chiefly  in  the  list  of  reverend  divines  that  Cam- 
bridge furnished  the  strength  of  New  England. 
Even  in  the  Salem  company,  before  Winthrop  left 
England,  Francis  Higginson  of  Jesus  College  went 
out  to  be  the  first  minister  of  Salem.  There  are 
those  who  excuse  the  treatment  of  the  Puritans, 
and  attempt,  in  this  day  of  enlightenment,  to  ob- 
tain popularity  for  that  poor  senseless  bigot,  Arch- 
bishop Laud, — -let  such  listen  to  the  words  of 
Higginson,  as  he  departed  on  his  tempestuous  voy- 
age to  Salem.      Calling  up  his  children  and  other 


246  ON   THE   CAM. 

passengers  into  the  stern  of  the  ship,  to  take  their 
last  sight  of  England,  he  said,  —  "  We  will  not 
say  as  the  Separatists  are  wont  to  say  at  their 
leaving  of  England,  '  Farewell,  Babylon  !  Fare- 
well, Rome.'  But  we  will  say,  '  Farewell,  dear 
England!  Farewell  the  Chureh  of  God  in  Eng- 
land and  all  Christian  friends  there  !  We  do  not 
go  to  New  England  as  Separatists  from  the  Church 
of  England  ....  but  we  go  to  propagate  the 
Gospel  in  America.'  "  And  so  he  concluded  with 
a  fervent  prayer  for  the  king  and  church  and  state 
in  England.  His  successor  in  Salem,  Skelton,  was 
likewise  a  son  of  Cambridge,  from  Clare  Hall. 
Two  progenitors  of  honored  races  in  New  Eng- 
land, Ezekiel  Rogers  of  Rowley,  and  George 
Phillips  of  Watertown,  were  both  sons  of  Cam- 
bridge ;  the  former  from  Corpus,  the  latter  from 
Caius.  But  the  great  strength  of  ministers  was 
from  Emmanuel :  Maude  of  Dover,  Whitney  of 
Lynn,  and  Ward  of  Ipswich,  all  were  children 
of  her  vigorous  youth.  From  her  were  the  two 
valiant  pioneers,  Hooker  and  Stone  of  Cam- 
bridge, who  had  scarcely  brought  that  settlement 
to  a  state  of  prosperity  before  they  resolved  to 
penetrate  yet  farther  into  the  wilderness,  and 
pitched  their  tent  on  the  lovely  river-side  at  Hart- 
ford. From  her,  too,  was  Shepard,  the  chief 
glory  of  the  early  church  at  Cambridge.  These 
names  alone  would  be  enough  to  entitle  the  an- 
cient halls  on  the  Cam  to  the  eternal  honor  and 


lecture  vm.  247 

love  of  the  people  of  New  England,  and  of  all  the 
States  of  the  Union,  whose  pioneers  were  New 
England  men.  But  there  are  yet  dearer  names. 
From  Jesus  College  came  that  most  devoted  of 
men,  who,  when  hundreds  around  him,  of  those 
whose  piety  was  most  renowned,  were  thinking 
of  nothing  but  their  own  prosperity,  gave  the  whole 
force  of  his  faithful,  his  energetic,  his  well-trained 
mind  to  casting,  if  possible,  a  single  ray  of  light  on 
the  poor,  neglected,  outraged  children  of  the  for- 
est, and  completed,  without  assistance,  that  super- 
human work,  the  translation  of  the  whole  Bible 
into  the  Indian  language,  —  the  Apostle  John 
Eliot.  From  Cambridge,  also,  I  need  not  say 
again,  for  it  formed  the  theme  of  my  first  lecture, 
came  the  lathers  of  our  thrice  honored  home  of 
learning,  —  our  dear  Alma  Mater,  our  peerless 
Harvard.  From  the  walls  of  Emmanuel  came 
that  gentle  divine,  who  just  lived  to  be  admitted 
a  freeman  of  Charlestown,  and  then  closed  his 
youthful  eyes  in  death,  but  not  before  he  had  be- 
queathed half  his  slender  fortune,  and  though  he 
knew  it  not,  his  name,  to  the  New  England  col- 
lege. From  Cambridge,  also,  came  the  first  two 
Presidents  of  Harvard,  and  the  only  two  which 
have  not  been  her  own  children,  —  Henry  Dtm- 
stcr  of  Emmanuel,  and  Charles  Chauncy  of  Trin- 
ity. So  that,  indeed,  Cambridge  in  America  is 
the  child  of  Cambridge  in  England,  bone  of  her 
bone,  and  flesh  of  her  flesh,  and  that  strong,  deep, 


248  ON   THE  CAM. 

rich  stream  which  flowed  through  the  heart  of 
Burghley  and  Spenser  and  Coke  and  Bacon,  is  the 
source  of  that  proud  current,  which,  after  nerving 
the  hearts  and  hands  of  so  many  statesmen  and 
counsellors  and  divines,  is  now,  with  its  holy  dew, 
moistening  the  worn-out  fields  of  Virginia,  in  the 
hope  to  prepare  it  for  an  unwonted  harvest  of 
Freedom. 

But  our  obligations  to  Cambridge  are  not  yet 
concluded.  For  it  is  you  and  I,  fellow-citizens,  we 
men  and  women  of  Boston,  that  have  reason  to 
be  proud  of  our  sainted  ancestors,  that  came  forth 
from  the  walls  of  Cambridge.  Who,  with  his  eye, 
sharper  than  any  diviner's  rod,  detected  the  lovely 
springs  of  water  that  flowed  into  the  defiles  of  these 
hills,  and  turned  the  Shawmut  peninsula  into  Tri- 
mountaine  ?  —  who  but  William  Blackstone  of 
Emmanuel  ?  The  faithful  ministers  of  the  First 
Church,  that,  it  must  be  confessed,  waged  rather 
unsparing  war  against  those  who  did  not  agree 
with  them,  but  still  were  learned,  just,  and  holy 
men,  —  do  we  owe  no  debt  to  them  ?  —  John 
Wilson  of  King's,  and  John  Norton  of  Peterhouse  ? 
And  him  who  was  selected  from  all  England  as 
the  chosen  pastor  of  that  old  First  Church  in  Bos- 
ton,—  him,  the  scholar,  the  preacher,  the  father, 
—  him,  in  whose  honor  the  beloved  name  of  Bos- 
ton was  given  to  Trimountaine,  —  him,  whose 
blood  is  in  the  veins  of  hundreds,  far  and  wide, 
in  New  England,  —  shall  we   not   shout    for  his 


LECTURE   Vffl.  249 

name,  our  honored  patriarch  and  exemplar,  —  John 
Cotton  ? 

John  Cotton  was,  indeed,  a  true  son  of  Cam- 
bridge. He  was  educated  at  Trinity  College,  win- 
ning the  esteem  and  honor  of  all  who  knew  him. 
Under  ordinary  circumstances  he  would  undoubt- 
edly have  been  a  fellow  of  Trinity ;  but,  in  the  year 
for  his  competition,  the  expenses  entailed  by  the 
erection  of  the  hall  I  described  to  you  the  other 
day  broke  in  on  the  distribution  of  fellowships. 
He,  however,  received  a  fellowship  at  Emmanuel, 
and  gave  himself  zealously  to  the  work  of  preach- 
ing. His  style  of  oratory  was  brilliant  and  capti- 
vating ;  and  was  wont,  as  was  the  custom  of  the 
English  Church  down  to  the  reign  of  William  the 
Third,  to  draw  forth  the  loud  hums  of  the  assem- 
bled undergraduates.  But  several  days  of  serious 
thought  lf(l  our  modest  and  reverend  patriarch  to 
doubt  the  propriety  of  this  Periclean  oratory,  as 
his  grandson  Mather  calls  it;  and,  when  he  was  ap- 
pointed to  preach  at  the  University  church,  a  huge 
auditory,  which  had  assembled  to  hear  a  mouth- 
filling  piece  of  rhetoric,  were  astounded  by  a  plain, 
trenchant  discourse  on  the  duty  of  repentance. 
Such  Puritanism  they  would  not  hum.  But  Cotton 
cared  not  for  hums  nor  hahs.  lie  soon  received 
the  invitation  to  preside  over  the  parish  which  is 
overtopped  by  the  majestic  tower  of  Old  Boston, 
in  Lincolnshire  ;  and,  alter  serving  in  patience  and 
fortitude  against  all  the  thunder  of  the  petty  Vati- 


250  ON  THE   CAM. 

can  set  up  at  Lambeth,  he  left  his  noble  church  on 
the  German  Ocean,  and  his  loved  resort  by  the 
Cam,  and  sought  peace  and  freedom  in  the  New 
Boston.  Here  he  died,  full  of  years  and  full  of 
honor.  Here  his  name  stands  forever,  a  beacon 
light  to  all  Christians  and  freemen ;  and  here  his 
descendant  rejoices,  to-night,  that  he  can  make 
the  name  of  his  venerated  ancestor  a  bond  between 
New  England  and  Old. 

To  Old  England  our  attention  is  now  again 
attracted  by  the  tremendous  crisis  which  over- 
whelmed her,  and  threatened,  at  times,  to  subvert 
all  order  and  law  in  her  state  ;  but  which  developed 
in  her  sons  a  genius  for  oratory,  for  statecraft,  for 
battle,  inferior  to  no  nation  in  the  world,  and  to 
which  we  cannot  but  attribute  most  of  the  bless- 
ings that,  after  the  overflow  of  the  torrent  of  revo- 
lution had  gone  by,  sprang  up  from  the  enriched 
soil  of  freedom.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  both  the 
Universities,  when  the  final  appeal  to  arms  came, 
ranged  themselves  on  the  side  of  the  king.  From 
both  were  derived  abundant  contributions  of  plate 
and  money  ;  from  both  many  a  gallant  young  stu- 
dent went  forth  in  what  he  deemed  the  cause  of 
right.  From  Cambridge  came  the  two  extremes 
of  the  Cavalier  party,  —  the  two  men  that  might 
be  esteemed  each  as  expressing  in  himself,  the  one 
all  the  crimes  of  the  tyrant,  the  other  all  the  vir- 
tues of  the  party.  It  is  the  questionable  glory  of 
Cambridge  to  have  educated  that  loveliest  of  ser- 


lecture  vm.  251 

pents,  that  most  honied  of  traitors,  the  apostate 
friend  of  liberty,  who,  after  making  his  name  hon- 
ored as  the  defender  of  the  people,  sold  this  glori- 
ous birthright  for  a  title,  and  enrolled  himself 
among  the  evil  counsellors,  whose  advice  the  ty- 
rant loved  to  take,  because  it  suited  full  well  the 
dictates  of  his  own  heart.  False  to  liberty,  false  to 
the  people,  false  to  himself  as  he  was,  Cambridge 
cannot  but  sigh  for  the  learning,  the  eloquence, 
the  courage,  that  perished  with  her  unhappy  son, 
— ■  Thomas,  Earl  of  Strafford.  And,  while  he  was 
breathing  his  accursed  poison  into  the  too  willing 
ear  of  Charles,  another  son  of  Cambridge,  who,  in 
his  ardent  devotion  to  the  throne,  never  lost  his 
love  for  the  people,  was  pleading  and  praying  that 
gentle  measures,  and  unbroken  faith,  might  be  the 
monarch's  guide.  It  is  the  old  story  of  the  two 
angels,  on  the  right  and  the  left.  But,  though 
the  demon's  counsels  prevailed,  and  though  even 
his  headlong  fall  from  earth  in  a  cloud  of  lurid 
flame  could  not  deter  his  infatuated  master,  still 
that  gentle  spirit  kept  by  the  side  of  his  monarch; 
and,  when  all  had  been  tried  in  vain,  sealed  his 
devotion  with  his  life,  —  the  loveliest,  the  truest, 
the  tenderest  soul  of  men.  And  over  his  grave 
we  feel  our  hearts  half  drawn  to  the  cause  from 
which  our  minds  revolt,  and  drop  a  memorial  tear 
for  the  son  of  Cambridge,  Lucius,  Viscount  Falk- 
land. 

But  in   this  great  cause,   where  mighty  princi- 


252  ON  THE  CAM. 

pies  of  law  and  government  and  morality  are  at 
stake,  let  us  not  be  misguided.  Sons  of  the  Puri- 
tans, let  no  considerations  of  mere  sentimentality 
or  personal  attractions  lure  us  from  admiration  of 
these  mighty  heroes,  the  champions  of  English  lib- 
erty. Those  whom  the  influence  overshadows  of 
a  throne,  an  aristocracy,  an  established  church,  — 
those  may  refuse,  from  conscience  and  timidity,  to 
espouse  the  sterner  but  the  juster  side.  But  we, 
—  we  can  weep  over  Falkland,  but  we  recognize 
with  pride  that  on  the  list  of  the  sons  of  Cam- 
bridge there  stands  next  to  his  the  name  of  the 
scion  of  nobility  who  dared  to  be  faithful  to  the 
people,  the  ancestor  of  a  noble  race  who  still  re- 
main in  our  own  borders,  and  in  whose  honored 
home  the  Father  of  his  Country  loved  to  find 
hospitality  and  affection,  —  the  leader  of  the  armies 
of  the  Parliament,  Thomas,  Lord  Fairfax. 

But  Cambridge  has  another  name  that  at  this 
period  won  far  greater  renown.  In  the  little  col- 
lege of  Sidney  Sussex,  there  hangs  an  original  por- 
trait of  one  of  the  very  first  men  who  ever  studied 
there.  It  is  said  that  the  contemplation  of  this  por- 
trait afforded  to  David  Hume  the  materials  for  that 
elaborate  character  he  has  drawn  of  the  greatest 
man  that  comes  into  his  history.  In  the  case  of 
Hume  there  was  every  passion  at  work  to  lead 
him  to  vilify  unsparingly  the  mighty  subject  of  his 
portraiture.  A  Scot,  he  had  doubtless  been  sati- 
ated at  his  nurse's  knee  by  songs  that  cursed  the 


lecture  vm.  253 

conqueror  of  Dunbar  field.  A  devoted  adherent 
of  monarchy,  he  detested  the  founder  of  the  Com- 
monwealth. A  professed  deist,  he  was  incapable 
of  sympathizing  with  the  leader  of  the  Puritans. 
A  practical  infidel,  his  whole  nature  was  alien  to 
the  man  who  was  so  tremendously  in  earnest  in  all 
his  actions.  Yet  even  he,  from  a  calm  study  of 
that  nervous  face,  that  the  flattering  painter  re- 
ceived such  imperative  directions  to  leave  in  its 
native  plainness,  is  obliged  to  acknowledge  the 
injustice  of  the  abuse  lavished  on  his  subject  by 
the  Stuart  partisans  ;  is  compelled  to  temper  every 
censure  with  a  compliment,  and  finally  to  award 
him  that  splendid  praise,  which  he  shares  with  our 
peerless  Washington,  a  perfect  self-control  of  a 
fiery  and  haughty  nature.  Such  is  the  verdict  of 
an  enemy.  But  for  us,  fellow-citizens,  for  us, 
children  of  the  Puritans,  for  I  love  to  repeat 
the  name,  there  need  be  no  hesitation.  We  do 
not  need  the  lofty  verses  of  Milton,  the  rugged 
logic  of  Carlyle,  the  matchless  eloquence  of  Ma- 
caulay,  to  change  our  hate  into  love,  or  quicken 
our  cold  encomiums  into  heartiness.  The  tradi- 
tions of  our  ancestors  call  upon  us  to  admire 
the  Puritan  ;  the  recollections  of  '70  appeal  to 
us  not  to  falter  in  our  admiration  of  him  who 
crushed  the  tyrant  ;  and  our  brethren,  falling 
every  day  in  defence  of  their  country's  outraged 
laws,  cry  to  us  from  the  ground  to  raise  the  shout 
of  glory  for    the    mighty    leader   who    could    see 


254  ON  THE  CAM. 

through  the  bloody  cloud  of  civil  strife  the  pathway 
to  peace,  and  strike  a  crushing  blow  at  the  crest  of 
the  despot,  who  set  up  the  standard  of  battle 
rather  than  abide  by  his  faith  and  the  laws. 

Yes,  bigots  may  defame  him,  tyrants  may  insult 
him,  but  when  the  hosts  of  God  rise  for  their  great 
review,  and  the  champions  of  liberty  bare  their 
scai-s,  there  shall  stand  in  the  foremost  rank,  shin- 
ing as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament,  the  majes- 
tic son  of  Cambridge,  the  avenger  and  protector, 
Oliver  Cromwell. 

It  Avould  be  delightful,  if  in  the  case  of  all  these 
men,  so  renowned  in  their  various  ways,  we  had 
full  accounts  of  their  college  life.  A  few  traditions 
have  been  preserved,  but  only  a  few.  One  of  the 
most  important  personages  at  Cambridge  in  the 
first  quarter  of  the  seventeenth  century  was  old 
Hobson,  the  carrier.  In  the  year  1625,  a  plague 
in  London  obliged  his  regular  trips  to  the  metrop- 
olis, with  letters  and  parcels,  to  be  suspended. 
His  regular  work  being  thus  interrupted,  he  sick- 
ened and  died.  A  young  student  of  Christ's  Col- 
lege, then  only  seventeen  years  of  age,  composed 
a  couple  of  epigrams  on  this  irreparable  loss,  and  I 
read  you  a  compilation  from  both,  to  give  you  a 
little  idea  of  Cambridge  wit  at  that  time. 

"  Here  lies  Old  Hob.son  !  Death  hath  broke  his  girt, 
And  here,  alas,  hath  laid  him  in  the  dirt ; 
Or  else  the  ways  being  foul,  twenty  to  one, 
He  's  here  stuck  in  a  slough,  and  overthrown. 


LECTURE   YHI.  255 

Rest  that  gives  all  men  life,  gave  him  his  death, 

And  too  much  hreathing  put  him  out  of  breath ; 

Nor  were  it  contradiction  to  affirm 

Too  long  vacation  hastened  on  his  term. 

Merely  to  drive  the  time  away  he  sickened, 

Fainted  and  died,  nor  would  with  ale  be  quickened ; 
'  Nay,'  quoth  he,  on  his  swooning  bed  outstretched, 
'  If  I  mayn't  carry,  sure  I  'II  ne'er  be  fetched.' 

Ease  was  his  chief  disease,  and  to  judge  right, 

He  died  for  heaviness,  that  his  cart  went  light ; 

His  leisure  told  him  that  his  time  was  come, 

And  lack  of  load  made  his  life  burdensome. 

But  had  his  doings  lasted  as  they  were, 

He  had  been  an  immortal  carrier. 

His  letters  are  delivered  all  and  gone, 

Only  remains  this  superscription." 

It  would,  perhaps,  require  some  perspicacity  to  de- 
tect, in  these  reiterated  conceits  and  rough  verses, 
the  gravity  of  thought  and  melody  of  diction  that 
entrance  us  in  the  pages  of  Paradise  Lost. 

In  no  part  of  history,  ancient  or  modern,  is  there 
a  life  of  such  intense  though  melancholy  interest 
as  that  of  Milton.  His  course  at  college  is  repre- 
sented by  old  tradition  to  have  been  a  contest,  and 
a  bitter  one,  with  the  authorities.  It  is  not  un- 
likely that  that  fearless  spirit,  that  dared  confront 
the  direst  anathemas  of  church  and  state,  may  have 
incurred  the  censure  of  some  academic  martinet, 
—  but  it  is  impossible  that  the  college  life  of  so 
good  a  scholar  and  so  pious  a  man,  could  have 
been  a  series  of  rebellions  and  punishments.  For 
the  ten  years  after  leaving  Cambridge,  the  life  of 


256  ON   THE   CAM. 

Milton  is  like  liis  own  Eden,  a  living  garden  of  all 
the  fruits  most  exquisite  to  a  young  man  ;  personal 
beauty  of  an  enchanting  perfection,  — the  devoted 
friendship  of  some  of  the  choicest  spirits  of  the  age, 
and  experienced  in  all  the  delights  of  a  tour  in 
Italy,  —  a  welcome  at  the  delightful  country  man- 
sions of  the  English  nobility,  where  the  art  of  liv- 
in«:  is  understood  as  nowhere  else  in  the  world,  — 
the  attention  of  all  observers,  attracted  more  and 
more  each  year  to  the  exquisite  beauties  of  his 
occasional  lyrics.  Had  Milton  died  at  thirty,  he 
would  have  been  universally  esteemed  one  of  the 
happiest  of  men.  In  1641,  his  life  changed.  Lib- 
erty and  truth  were  assailed  by  tyranny  and  bigot- 
ry, and  calmly  this  young  and  elegant  poet  comes 
forward  to  grapple  in  the  death-struggle.  For  ten 
more  years  his  life  is  given  to  a  defence  of  the 
great  principles  on  which  he  believes  justice  and 
truth  to  rest.  He  knows  full  well  what  the  issue 
of  such  a  fight  must  be,  and  what  the  world  would 
require  at  his  hands,  and  not  for  an  instant  does  he 
falter  in  his  great  work,  till  he  has  won  a  name,  as 
a  statesman,  that  sounds  through  Europe.  Had 
he  died  in  1G52,  twenty  years  after  leaving  college, 
he  would  have  lost  some  private  happiness,  but  he 
would  have  died  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  well- 
earned  fame.  But  for  twenty-two  more  years  he 
must  struo-o-le  with  all  the  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to. 
First  went  those  rich  dark  eyes,  that  had  won  the 
heart  of  the   Italian  princess,  —  still  he  could  bear 


LECTURE  vin.  257 

to  lose  them  in  the  cause  of  liberty,  as  long  as  his 
mighty  protector,  the  protector  of  England  re- 
mained. But  the  Stuarts  returned,  and  to  the 
stino;  of  blindness,  and  of  that  slow  but  too  often 
sure-footed  guest,  poverty,  was  added  a  storm  of 
obloquy  and  contumely  for  what  they  were  pleased 
to  term  heresy  and  treason.  The  Duke  of  York, 
afterwards  the  last  and  worst  of  the  Stuart  kings, 
who  loved  to  see  the  Covenanters  put  to  torture, 
and  stood  silent  while  his  own  nephew  crawled  in 
chains  to  his  knees  and  begged  for  life, —  delighted 
to  expend  the  energies  of  his  narrow,  superstitious, 
bitter  mind  in  insults  and  injuries  on  the  poor  old 
?nan.  The  sweet  presence  of  woman's  love,  that 
has  so  often  breathed  consolation  to  a  hundred 
wretched  hearts,  was  poisoned  for  him  by  countless 
trials.  But  all  availed  not  to  slay  that  immortal 
soul.  Blindness  could  not  check  the  keenness  of 
that  vision,  to  whom  myriads  of 

"  Starry  lamps  and  blazing  cressets,  fed 
With  naphtha  and  asphaltus,  yielded  light 
As  from  a  sky,"  — 

who  beheld  the  angelic  squadron  turning  fiery 
red  at  the  insults  of  the  enemy  of  God.  No  pov- 
erty could  check  that  boundless  imagination  that 
built  up  the  opal  towers  of  heaven  and  adorned 
it>  battlements  with  living  sapphire,  that  laid  out 
the  walks  fragrant  with  cassia,  nard,  and  balm, 
that  raised  Seleucia,  Rome,  and  Athens  from  their 
ruins    by   the    splendor    of  his    descriptions.    Ser- 

Q 


258  ON  THE   CAM. 

vile  parliaments  and  haughty  princes  might  revile 
or  torture  the  breaker  of  the  golden  image  and 
the  assertor  of  the  liberty  of  the  press.  But 
what  cared  he,  who  had  but  to  dictate  five  words 
in  his  majestic  picture  of  the  sun  in  eclipse,  and 
straightway  monarchs  were  perplexed  with  fear 
of  change.  The  fanatical  Sherlock  and  the  big- 
oted  Sancroft  might  fix  on  him  a  thousand  charges 
of  heresy,  but  it  was  nothing  to  him  who  felt  him- 
self already  admitted  within  the  veil,  and  holding 
communion  with  heaven  itself  in  the  solution  of 
its  eternal  history,  and  its  transcendent  mysteries. 
The  frigid  conceits  of  the  past  age,  and  the  sense- 
less bombast  of  his  own,  could  not  break  one  of 
the  thousand  strings  in  his  heavenly  harp ;  the 
servility  and  fanaticism  of  a  whole  nation  could 
not  shake  one  lofty  and  free  thought  in  his  breast; 
the  bestial  licentiousness  of  the  sons  of  Belial  that 
thronged  the  court  could  not  cast  one  spot  on  that 
snow-like  purity.  All  honor  then  to  the  defender 
of  liberty,  —  reverence  and  homage  to  the  cham- 
pion of  religion.  Thrice  echoing  shouts  of  glory, 
and  ever-blooming  showers  of  laurel  to  the  pro- 
found statesman,  the  elegant  scholar,  the  consum- 
mate poet,  the  revealer  of  Hell  and  Heaven  and 
Paradise !  And  let  no  meaner  name  sully  our 
lips  to-night  than  that  of  the  greatest  son  of 
Cambridge,  John  Milton. 


IX. 


GREAT   MEN   OF    CAMBRIDGE    SINCE    16S8. 

Mathematicians. —  Scholars. —  Divines. —  Lawyers. —  States- 
men.—  Authors.  —  Newton,  Bentley,  Barrow,  Lyndhurst, 
Pitt,  Macaulay,  and  others.  —  Song  for  Cambridge. 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen  : 

In  my  last  lecture  I  recounted  to  you  some  of 
the  principal  great  men  educated  at  Cambridge 
from  the  time  of  Erasmus  to  the  time  of  Milton. 
And  I  think  the  propriety  of  thus  terminating  the 
series  of  the  earlier  worthies  at  this  point  will 
readily  he  recognized.  Milton  was  one  of  the 
last  educated  under  the  old  system  of  the  Aris- 
totelian loffic.  The  next  generation  began  to  turn 
its  attention  to  the  new  sciences,  to  discuss  the 
discoveries  of  Galileo  and  the  reasonings  of  Kep- 
ler, and  to  elaborate  or  refute  the  systems  of 
Descartes.  In  the  year  after  Milton  died,  a  spe- 
cial dispensation  —  the  legality  of  which  we  will 
not  here  consider — was  granted  by  King  Charles 
II.  to  permit  Isaac  Newton  to  hold  his  college  fel- 
lowship without  taking  holy  orders  in  the  Church 
of  Lm'dand.  Newton,  when  at  the  zenith  of 
his  reputation,  became  master  of  the  mint  to 
William    III.,  —  and    thus   the    next   set   of   men 


260  ON  THE   CAM. 

after  Milton  at  once  introduces  us  to  the  new  or- 
der of  things,  the  new  world  created  in  England, 
by  that  establishment  of  the  constitution  more 
firmly  on  the  basis  of  law,  which  she  owes  to  the 
revolution  of  1688. 

In  the  present  lecture,  therefore,  I  shall  call 
your  attention  to  the  great  men  of  Cambridge, 
who,  though  in  part  educated  earlier,  yet  nearly 
all  flourished  and  made  their  mark  in  the  world 
between  the  expulsion  of  the  Stuarts  and  the  pres- 
ent time.  In  a  period  so  long  and  of  such  a  char- 
acter, the  method  I  pursued  last  Tuesday  of  di- 
viding the  whole  into  generations  or  epochs,  and 
showing  the  part  Cambridge  played  in  each  of 
them  would  be  wholly  impracticable.  I  shall, 
therefore,  rather  take  up  several  of  the  great  de- 
partments of  human  knowledge,  in  which  the  sons 
of  Cambridge  have  excelled,  and  recount  to  you 
the  services  rendered  in  each  by  her  more  illustri- 
ous children. 

And  first  let  us  consider  what  Cambridge  has 
accomplished  in  the  two  great  divisions  of  learning 
which  she  calls  her  own  ;  mathematical  philosophy 
and  classical  scholarship.  And  in  the  first  of  these 
departments  the  name  I  have  already  mentioned 
at  once  places  Cambridge  ahead  of  all  other  insti- 
tutions that  have  made  the  mathematical  and  phys- 
ical sciences  a  part  of  their  training.  In  Isaac 
Newton  all  men  of  science  are  ready  to  recognize 
their  superior,  and  proud  to  be  thought  his  pupils 


LECTURE   IX.  261 

and  followers.  Pope's  well-known  epigrammatic 
statement 

"  Nature  and  Nature's  laws  la)r  hid  in  night ; 
God  said,  'Let  Newton  be,'  and  all  was  light,"  — 

though  like  all  epigrams,  hyperbolical,  is,  like  all 
Pope's  epigrams,  true,  though  not  perhaps  in  ex- 
actly the  author's  sense.  The  application  of  the 
principles  of  law  to  the  phenomena  of  nature  was 
not  originated  by  Newton.  The  ancient  mathe- 
maticians, Euclid,  Archimedes,  and  Apollonius,  — 
those  of  the  Middle  Ages,  Stevinus  and  Comman- 
dine,  —  and  still  later,  Galileo  and  Kepler,  had 
made  many  invaluable  generalizations  from  most 
admirable  experiments.  The  imperfection  of  the 
early  telescopes  had  been  in  part  regulated  by  the 
micrometer,  that  beautiful  invention  of  Gascoigne, 
the  too-early  lost,  the  youthful  astronomer  whose 
studies  were  untimely  broken  by  Marston  Moor. 
At  Cambridge,  particularly,  the  work  had  been 
nobly  inaugurated.  Wallis  and  Barrow  had  all 
but  developed  the  great  principles  of  modern  math- 
ematics, they  had  all  but  solved  the  problem  of 
the  Universe.  But  still  the  laws  themselves  lay 
hid  in  night ;  and  till  the  sun  arose,  nothing  satis- 
factory, nothing  certain  could  be  told.  That  sun 
was  Newton.  As  soon  as  he  appears  there  is  a 
scattering  of  mists  and  darkness,  never  again  to 
gather  in  like  force.  After  him  there  is  light, 
not  always  the  light  of  noonday,  or  of  the  summer 
solstice,  nor  yet  a  light  of  any  magic  power  that 


262  ON  THE   CAM. 

enables  us  to  see  everything  just  as  it  is,  — many  of 
Nature's  laws  are  yet  to  be  known,  —  but  yet  that 
light  without  which  the  most  brilliant  discoveries 
serve  like  diamonds  by  their  very  brilliancy  only 
to  heighten  the  surrounding  darkness,  in  which 
they  flash  out,  reflecting  the  glory,  and  adding  to 
it  their  own. 

In  discussing  such  a  man  as  Newton,  it  is  best 
at  once  to  speak  of  his  discoveries  in  terms  of  per- 
fect truth,  or  even  to  leave  points  uncontested  of 
which  the  truth  may  be  in  his  favor.  Let  us  then 
avow  freely,  that  his  great  mathematical  system 
was  discovered  by  Leibnitz  almost  simultaneously ; 
that  in  the  opinion  of  many  distinguished  mathe- 
maticians the  theory  of  Leibnitz  is  the  more  philo- 
sophical, and  the  methods  pursued  by  him  more 
rational  than  Newton's ;  that  the  theory  of  light 
proposed  by  his  contemporary  Huyghens  com- 
mands at  the  present  day  the  universal  preference 
of  the  most  distinguished  savans,  unless  possibly 
Sir  David  Brewster.  But  all  this  is  as  nothing  to 
the  main  question.  Even  where  Newton  was  er- 
roneous or  unphilosophical,  his  errors  and  his  con- 
fusion have  led  ultimately  to  higher  truth  and 
purer  truth  than  the  barren  exactitudes  of  others. 
And  the  great  theory  on  which  all  his  discoveries 
depend,  the  law  of  universal  attraction,  has  re- 
mained not  only  irrefragable,  but  every  day  con- 
firmed in  the  most  surprising  manner.  Again 
and  again,   when    some  new    irregularity  in   the 


LECTURE   IX.  263 

heavenly  bodies  has  caused  the  superficial  mathe- 
maticians to  declare  that  now  at  last  the  Newto- 
nian system  would  not  hold,  a  closer  investigation 
has  proved  that  the  supposed  objections  were  only 
striking  demonstrations  of  its  truth.  It  is  the 
Newtonian  theory  of  attraction  that  gives  the 
stand-point  Archimedes  sought  to  move  the  world. 
It  is  this  that  verified  every  figure  in  the  incom- 
parable calculations  of  Bradley,  this  that  nerved  the 
all-grasping  sinews  of  the  celestial  mechanic,  — 
this  that  winged  the  thought  of  Leverrier  into  the 
sightless  depths  of  the  Uranian  abyss,  —  this  that 
gave  our  own  matchless  Bond  the  confidence  and 
the  power  to  seize  the  fiery  tresses  of  the  trailing 
wanderers,  to  make  the  rough  dull  cloud-mass  of 
Orion  blaze  with  the  sparkling  glories  of  the  perfect 
gem,  to  unbridle  the  oceanic  ring  of  Saturn  from 
the  curb  the  ages  had  thrown  over  it.  And  if  the 
time  should  ever  come,  —  and  who,  considering 
the  infinity  of  creation  and  the  might  of  science, 
shall  say  it  will  not  come  ?  — when  a  system  of  the 
Universe  is  demonstrated  in  whose  mighty  gener- 
alizations Newton's  is  a  mere  special  case,  still 
shall  grateful  learning  pay  honor  to  the  rising  sun 
that  shone  through  the  mists  of  her  natal  hour, 
still  shall  Cambridge  do  honor  to  her  noblest  son, 
trained  by  her  counsels,  nurtured  in  her  walls, 
honored  by  her  culture. 

It  is  no  vain   boast   that  Newton  was  trained  at 
Cambridge.     Had  he  other  masters  than   Barrow, 


264  ON  THE   CAM. 

he  might  have  waited  long  for  his  discoveries ; 
but  Barrow,  and  his  great  contemporary,  Wallis, 
had  already7  brought  mathematics  to  such  a  state, 
that  the  Newtonian  discoverers  must  come  soon. 
Contemporary  with  Newton  at  Cambridge  was 
Flamsteed,  the  first  astronomer  royal,  and  the 
great  illustrator  of  the  laws  of  the  tides,  and  Roger 
Cotes,  a  name  too  little  known  in  the  world,  but 
appreciated  by  all  mathematicians,  of  whom  New- 
ton himself  said,  "  If  he  had  lived,  we  might  have 
known  something."  At  a  later  period  we  find 
the  blind  mathematician,  Saunderson,  Vince,  and 
Taylor,  who  added  many  important  formulas  to 
practical  calculations.  Still  later,  occur  the  names 
of  Wood  and  Peacock,  hated  by  youthful  stu- 
dents in  Algebra ;  of  Sir  John  Herschel,  the 
worthy  son  of  a  worthy  father  ;  of  the  astrono- 
mers royal,  Maskelyne  and  Airy, — and,  finally, 
in  our  own  time,  of  that  wonderful  genius,  John 
Couch  Adams,  who  in  the  same  year  as  Leverrier 
made  precisely  similar  calculations  on  his  own  ac- 
count, demonstrating  the  existence  of  another 
member  of  the  solar  system. 

And  then  in  the  other  chosen  branch  of  Cam- 
bridge studies,  the  Classical  Literatures  and  Lan- 
guages. If  our  age  begins  with  the  prince  of 
mathematicians,  it  also  begins  with  the  prince  of 
scholars.  Never  since  Greek  learning  was  revived, 
not  in  Erasmus,  its  great  parent,  —  or  More  and 
Cheke,  his  coadjutors,  —  or  Casaubon,  the  patient 


LECTURE   VI.  265 

student,  —  or  Spanheim  and  Graevius,  the  elegant 
imitators ;  —  not  in  Wolf,  the  arch  heretic,  nor 
Hermann,  the  all  correcting,  nor  Lobeck,  the 
omnivorous,  —  never,  perhaps,  except  in  the  un- 
measured learning  and  magnificent  intelligence  of 
Scaliger,  has  there  been  such  a  scholar  as  Rich- 
ard Bentley.  He  was  one  of  those  men  to  whom 
ordinary  Greek  and  Latin  is  like  a  child's  primer, 
and  who  has  only  a  slight  chance  of  making  a  mis- 
take when  he  comes  to  those  tremendous  passages 
where  all  the  concentrated  obscurity  of  the  author 
is  darkened  tenfold  by  all  the  diffused  stupidity  of 
the  copyists.  In  his  hands  the  vast  mass  of  rough 
and  unexplored  Greek  literature,  which  men  had 
been  content  to  pass  by  as  hopeless,  became  a  great 
mine  of  rich  jewels,  which  indeed  needed  labor  to 
dig,  to  wash,  to  polish,  but  which  repaid  that  labor 
by  :i  lustre  far  more  glorious  than  those  of  the 
well-known  pebbles  to  be  fuund  in  every  river's 
bed. 

Richard  Bentley  was  a  member  of  St.  John's 
College,  Cambridge.  In  the  hitter  part  of  the 
seventeenth  century  he  was  involved  in  what  the 
learned  know  as  the  "  Phalaris  "  controversy  with 
some  of  the  young  wits  of  England,  which  resulted 
in  a  nominal  and  temporary  success  of  his  adver- 
saries, but  really  and  ultimately  in  the  establish- 
ment of  Dr.  Bentlev  as  the  greatest  of  English 
scholars;  and  if  he  only  did  justice  to  himself,  one 
of  the  greatest  of  English  wits  and  critics.      In  this 


206  ON   THE   CAM. 

discussion,  lie  was  brought  in  collision  with  Atter- 
buiy,  Swift,  and  the  other  wits,  and  they  commu- 
nicated their  enmity  to  Pope,  who  has  filled  whole 
pages  with  abuse  of  Bentley,  a  little  more  virulent 
and  a  little  less  true  than  Pope's  satire  generally 
is.  The  reputation  thus  acquired  procured  Bent- 
ley  the  appointment  from  the  crown  of  Master  of 
Trinity  College  ;  as  there  is  only  a  single  wall  of 
brick  between  Trinity  and  his  own  college  of  St. 
John,  he  is  reported  to  have  quoted  somewhat 
profanely,  "  By  the  help  of  God  I  have  leapt  over 
a  wall."  Though  not  originally  a  member  of  it, 
his  whole  soul  and  energy  were  given  to  the  col- 
lege of  his  adoption,  but  his  ideas  for  increasing  it 
provoked  the  resentment  of  the  existing  fellows, 
particularly  Dr.  Conyers  Middleton,  the  author  of 
the  Life  of  Cicero.  lie  was  at  once  involved  in 
new  controversy  with  them,  wherein  his  exces- 
sively imperious  and  overbearing  temper  doubtless 
did  him  no  good  ;  but  which  ended  in  his  appeal 
from  the  petty  jealousies  and  scholastic  insolence 
of  the  University  to  the  justice  of  the  king  and 
council  being  triumphantly  sustained,  and  now, 
while  Conyers  Middleton's  servile  biography  of 
Cicero  is  daily  less  and  less  esteemed,  and  his 
really  valuable  theological  essays  are  hardly  read, 
his  rival  is  rising  every  day  in  the  reputation  of 
scholars,  as  the  great  founder  of  classical  criticism. 
Second  to  Bentley,  but  second  to  him  alone,  is 
Richard  Porson.     This  glorious  interpreter  of  the 


LECTURE  LX.  267 

Greek  drama,  gifted  with  memory,  with  wit,  with 
acuteness,  with  vigor  beyond  almost  any  man,  who 
if  he  had  no  other  merit  would  be  immortal  from 
the  beauty  of  his  Greek  manuscript,  is  a  lamenta- 
ble instance  of  transcendent  powers  joined  to 
almost  irresistible  failings.  Porson  was  probably 
the  brightest  wit  in  a  generation  of  humorists,  and 
the  hardest  drinker  in  a  generation  of  drunkards. 
He  would  drink  anything,  even  the  alcohol  set 
aside  to  fill  a  lamp.  This  at  once  plunged  him 
into  debt  and  sloth,  from  which  even  the  necessity 
of  earning  his  bread  hardly  extricated  him.  Had 
William  Pitt  —  a  Cambridge  man  and  a  devoted 
friend  of  the  Greek  classics  —  done  his  duty  by 
literature  and  given  Porson  a  pension,  he  might 
have  been  raised  from  the  necessity  of  associating 
with  hack-writers,  and  his  orgies  deprived  of  half 
their  coarseness,  or  perchance  broken  up  forever. 
But  in  spite  of  poverty,  of  idleness,  of  vice,  the 
splendor  of  his  wit,  the  soundness  of  his  mind, 
the  sweetness  of  his  disposition,  have  left  to  those 
who  study  him  attentively  a  memory  they  must 
love  while  they  censure.  His  researches  in  the 
ancient  drama  have  placed  the  whole  criticism  of 
its  masters,  so  difficult  yet  so  delightful,  on  a  new 
ba^is,  while  his  letters  to  Travis  have  demon- 
si  rated  beyond  power  of  refutation  that  the  so- 
called  "proof-text"  so  often  cited,  viz.  1  John 
v.  7,  has   no   place   whatever  in  the  Bible. 

A  little  prior  to  Porson  was  another  great  Cam- 


268  ON   THE   CAM. 

bridge  scholar,  a  perfect  mine  of  erudition,  the 
learned  Samuel  Parr.  Had  Dr.  Parr  devoted 
himself  wholly  to  what  he  was  best  adapted  for, 
namely,  the  editing  of  the  classics,  he  might  have 
made  himself  a  great  name.  But  in  an  evil  hour 
he  made  it  his  business  to  be  a  great  conversa- 
tionist like  Johnson,  whom  he  imitated  in  little  but 
rudeness.  Yet  some  good  jokes  are  told  of  him. 
He  was  once  present  at  a  dinner  in  company  with 
Sir  James  Mackintosh,  whom  Parr  and  his  party 
always  accused  of  apostasy  from  the  true  cause,  of 
liberty.  The  conversation  turned  on  the  Irish 
rebels  of  '98,  and  Mackintosh  said  of  one  of 
them,  "  He  was  the  worst  of  men."  Parr  looked 
fixedly  at  him,  and  in  a  spiteful  voice,  almost  un- 
intelligible from  a  peculiar  lisp,  hissed  out,  "No, 
Sir  James,  he  was  a  very  bad  man,  but  he  was 
not  the  worst  of  men.  He  was  an  Irishman, 
he  might  have  been  a  Scotchman  ;  he  was  a 
priest,  he  might  have  been  a  lawyer ;  he  was 
a  traitor,  Sir  James,  he  might  have  been  an 
apostate." 

It  is  to  the  exertions  of  Cambridge  men  that 
we  owe  that  accurate  and  beautiful  knowledge  of 
the  spirit  of  Greek  poetry  that  so  distinguishes 
the  English  scholars.  They  not  only  understand 
how  to  sift  the  endless  chaff  of  German  erudition 
from  the  wheat  and  to  work  up  the  latter  into 
the  purest  flour,  but  to  flavor  the  bread  of  learn- 
ing with  an  ambrosial  misto  all  their  own.     The 


LECTURE  IX.  269 

names  of  Dobree,  of  Elmsley,  of  Monk,  of 
Blakesley,  of  Long,  of  Paley,  of  Thompson,  of 
Munro,  of  Vaughan,  of  Lyttelton,  of  Merivale, 
are  familiar  to  all  scholars  as  those  of  accurate, 
of  elegant,  of  acute  interpreters  of  the  treasures 
of  ancient  lore. 

Next  to  the  study  of  the  learned  languages  and 
mathematics,  unquestionably  the  greatest  attention 
is  paid  at  Cambridge  to  Theology.  In  the  period 
selected  for  this  evening,  the  greatest  name  as 
well  as  the  first  is  that  of  Isaac  Barrow,  the  pre- 
ceptor of  Newton.  Distinguished  in  the  early 
part  of  his  life  for  his  mathematical  skill,  his  fame 
now  rests  on  his  theological  works,  and  chiefly  his 
sermons.  I  might  do  worse  to-night  than  stop 
my  lecture  and  read  you  a  sermon  of  Barrow; 
but  without  going  that  length,  let  me  advise  any 
young  preacher,  who  thinks  his  last  discourse, 
intended  for  some  special  occasion,  has  completely 
used  up  the  subject,  to  take  down  his  grandfather's 
old  copy  of  Barrow's  sermons,  only  to  find  every 
one  of  his  own  thoughts  much  better  expressed, 
and  a  great  deal  more  he  never  dreamed  of,  and 
all  penetrated,  by  a  combination  of  intellectual 
mastery,  of  chastened  eloquence,  and  of  pure 
(  hristian  holiness,  that  must  carry  conviction  to 
the  hearts  of  even  such  godless  audiences  as  Bar- 
row was  wont  to  address. 

in  Harrow's  own  time,  the  popular  preference 
was  decidedly  <riven   to  Tillotson.      His  sermons, 


270  ON  THE  CAM. 

though  now  less  read,  deserve  to  be  revived  for 
the  exquisite  spirit  of  love  and  gentleness  breath- 
ing through  them  all.  When  Tillotson  died,  Wil- 
liam III.,  not  given  to  demonstration,  and  not  fond 
of  Englishmen,  wrote  to  his  most  intimate  corre- 
spondent,  that  he  had  "lost  the  best  friend  he 
ever  had  and  the  best  man  he  ever  knew."  Cam- 
bridge is  proud  to  rank  Tillotson  of  her  sons. 

In  the  same  age  are  Pearson,  whose  treatise  on 
the  Creed  is  held  to  be  a  chief  stone  of  the  founda- 
tion of  English  theology ;  Cud  worth,  the  author  of 
a  vigorous  intellectual  system,  and  Burnet,  of  the 
"  Theory  of  the  Earth,"  the  latter  renowned  also 
as  a  devoted  friend  of  liberty ;  the  eloquent  and 
virtuous  bishops,  Stillingfleet  and  Beveridge,  Pat- 
rick and  Tenison ;  the  grave  and  pious  Calamy  ; 
Lightfoot,  the  greatest  English  Orientalist ;  and 
Jeremy  Collier,  who,  in  spite  of  his  bigotry  and 
his  absurdity,  deserves  the  thanks  of  all  lovers  of 
literature  and  morality,  for  having  been  the  first 
to  strike  a  blow  at  the  impurity  of  the  English 
drama.  But,  perhaps,  none  of  all  these  is  so  en- 
titled to  the  respect  and  love  of  Christians  as  one 
who,  though  belonging  to  an  earlier  generation, 
may  well  be  considered  the  father  of  Christian  in- 
struction in  modern  England,  whose  books  are  daily 
republished  as  surpassing  all  others  in  the  value  of 
their  precepts  and  consolations,  the  sainted  Jeremy 
Taylor. 

In  the  next  century  the  list  of  Cambridge  divines 


LECTUBE   IX.  271 

is  swelled  by  Sherlock  and  Hoadley,  fellow-stu- 
dents and  fellow-bishops  ;  Horsley,  one  of  the  most 
energetic  controversialists  and  one  of  the  best  of 
men  ;  Samuel  Clarke,  so  long  the  leader  of  the  lib- 
eral theologians ;  and  Paley,  who,  though  his  Moral 
Philosophy  is  justly  superseded,  and  his  Horoe  Pau- 
linas is  fast  giving  way  to  better  books,  must  stand 
forever  as  an  honest,  a  vigorous,  and  a  pious  op- 
ponent of  the  sloth  and  infidelity  wherein  the  re- 
ligion of  England  appeared  irredeemably  plunged. 

In  the  last  two  generations  the  divines  of  Cam- 
bridge have  not  fallen  from  the  reputation  of  their 
predecessors  ;  but  I  omit  their  consideration  till  a 
later  lecture,  when  I  shall  discuss  the  whole  sub- 
ject of  the  connection  of  Cambridge  with  the 
Church  of  England. 

Next  in  estimation  to  the  profession  of  Divinity, 
undoubtedly  stands  that  of  Law.  The  science  of 
the  laws  of  England  formed  no  part  of  the  instruc- 
tion at  Cambridge  till  Sir  George  Downing  in- 
eluded  in  his  gifts  to  Downing  College  a  professor- 
ship  of  the  laws  of  England.  Civil  law,  as  I  have 
already  explained,  formed  an  important  branch  of 
Cambridge  study.  But  although  not  directly  con- 
nected with  the  University,  the  Inns  of  Court,  in 
London,  where  chiefly  the  Law  was  and  is  studied, 
always  accorded  great  privileges  to  persons  coming 
from  the  University,  shortening  the  time  required 
fur  residence  to  such  as  had  taken  the  Master's  or 
Bachelor's  degrees.      And  in  England  as  here,  the 


272  ON   THE  CAM. 

best  training  for  the  legal  studies  has  always,  and 
rightly,  been  considered  to  be  the  education  given 
at  college.  A  distinguished  member  of  the  English 
bench,  who  had  himself  taken  the  highest  honors 
of  his  year  at  Cambridge,  admonished  his  young 
nephew,  who  proposed  studying  there,  that  he  must 
"  be  sure  and  get  a  Wranglership,"  such  an  unfail- 
ing prestige  did  it  give  among  the  retaining  attor- 
neys to  have  stood  high  at  the  Universities. 

About  the  time  of  the  revolution  of  1688,  the 
Attorney-General,  Sir  Robert  Sawyer,  one  of  the 
ablest  of  all  the  English  counsel,  was  a  son  of  Cam- 
bridge, and  represented  her  in  Parliament.  From 
his  time  there  has  always  been  a  supply  of  distin- 
guished members  of  the  Inns  of  Court  from  Cam- 
bridge ;  —  the  virtuous  Camden,  the  faithful  friend 
of  Chatham  ;  the  unfortunate  Charles  Yorke,  who 
put  an  end  to  his  own  life  the  day  after  he  had 
received  the  woolsack  on  which  his  father  had  sat 
before  him  ;  and  that  truly  Christian  knight,  Sir 
Eardley  Wilmot,  whose  modesty  shrank  from  the 
honors  of  the  great  seal.  Two  chancellors  of  still 
greater  fame  join  the  list,  —  Edward  Thurlow  and 
Thomas  Erskine.  Thurlow,  it  may  well  be  sup- 
posed, was  a  sadly  unruly  member  of  the  Univer- 
sity. It  may  not  be  amiss  to  recall  some  of  the 
anecdotes  of  his  college  course  which  Lord  Camp- 
bell has  preserved.  For  example  :  —  There  was 
a  stringent  law  at  Cambridge  against  any  garments 
except  those  of  a  black  or  "  subfusk  "  hue  ;  and 


LECTURE   IX.  273 

especially  against  any  cuffs  of  a  gay  color  being- 
attached  to  the  coat.  Thurlow  was  reprimanded 
for  transgressing  this  rule.  He  denied  the  charge 
altogether.  "  What,  sir,"  said  the  college  func- 
tionary, indignantly,  "  am  I  not  to  believe  my 
own  eyes?"  "  No,  sir,"  said  the  future  chancel- 
lor ;  and,  stripping  off  his  coat,  showed  that  the 
sleeves,  terminating  in  the  gay  cuffs,  were  attached 
to  the  waistcoat.  On  another  occasion,  the  dean 
of  the  college  imposed  upon  him,  as  a  punishment, 
—  according  to  a  practice  given  up  entirely  at 
Cambridge,  but  not  wholly  at  Oxford,  — to  trans- 
late  a  paper  of  the '  Spectator  into  Greek.  Thur- 
low performed  the  task  with  a  good  deal  of  skill ; 
but,  instead  of  taking  it  to  the  dean,  who  was  not 
a  verv  learned  man,  took  it  to  one  of  the  tutors, 
a  splendid  Greek  scholar.  This  was  considered 
a  piece  of  impertinence  ;  and  being  interrogated  by 
the  body  of  the  authorities  as  to  his  excuse,  he  re- 
plied :  "  Sir,  1  have  all  possible  respect  for  the 
dean,  and  therefore  took  my  imposition  to  the 
tutor,  as  a  person  who  could  inform  him  whether 
or  not  I  had  done  the  task  satisfactorily."  For  this 
exquisite  piece  of  insolence  no  punishment  seemed 
suited,  rustication  bring  too  lenient,  and  expul- 
sion too  severe  ;  but,  in  compliance  with  the  advice 
of  the  tutor,  Thurlow  voluntarily  left  the  Univer- 
sity. 1  refer  vou  to  Lord  Campbell's  "Lives" 
lor  the'  sequel  to  the  storv,  which  shows  that  Thur- 
low, though  a   perfect   hear,   had   a  good   heart  as 


274  ON  THE   CAM. 

well  as  a  sound  head.  I  own  more  authentic 
anecdotes  quite  refute  the  supposition. 

The  advantages  which  Lord  Erskine  derived 
from  Cambridge  were  peculiar.  It  was  after  hav- 
ing tried  unsuccessfully  both  branches  of  the  ser- 
vice that  he  determined  to  go  to  the  bar.  Any  one 
who  had  taken  a  University  degree  could  be  called 
to  the  bar  in  three  years,  instead  of  five,  after 
entering  the  Inns  of  Court.  Erskine,  therefore, 
entered  his  name,  and  kept  his  rooms,  at  Trinity 
College,  Cambridge  ;  and,  being  the  son  o(  an 
earl,  was  admitted  to  his  degree  after  two  years* 
residence,  and  without  an  examination.  This 
privilege  of  the  nobility  is  now  disused  ;  but  it 
might  well  have  been  continued  it'  it  were  always 
the  means  of  smoothing  the  passage  to  legal  honors 
of  such  a  man  as  Erskine,  the  most  consummate 
forensic  orator  of  the  ago,  and  one  of  the  truest 
friends  oi'  liberty   that   ever  lived. 

Another  most  eminent  lawyer,  who  owed  his 
education  to  Cambridge,  was  the  great  Ellen- 
borough.  His  proficiency  was  such  that  he  was 
expected  to  take  the  first  honors  of  his  rear  in 
both  classics  and  mathematics.  He  was  disa[>- 
pointed  in  the  latter,  being  onlv  third  wrangler, 
instead  of  senior ;  but  he  was  easily  first  in  the 
classical  department  ;  and  thus  continued  the  tamo 
ot  his  family,  his  father  and  two  brothers  having 
all  three  graduated  with  distinction  at  Cambridge, 
and  all  three  risen  to  bishopries.      Many  years  at- 


LECTURE   LX.  275 

ter,  when  the  examinations  had  much  increased  in 
difficulty,  Sir  E.  H.  Alderson,  afterwards  greatly 
distinguished  as  an  Exchequer  judge,  actually  ob- 
tained the  highest  honors  of  his  year  in  all  the  pos- 
sible subjects  of  competition,  —  a  case  of  which  only 
three  instances  have  ever  occurred  since  the  records 
begin  in  17o2.  Two  other  renowned  lawyers,  Bick- 
ersteth,  afterwards  Lord  Langdale,  and  Sir  Fred- 
erick Pollock,  whose  recent  decision  in  the  Alex- 
andra case  has  rather  shaken  the  value  placed  by 
Americans  on  his  legal  acumen,  obtained  the  high- 
est mathematical  honors  of  their  respective  years. 
Cambridge  also  was  the  mother  of  a  judge,  now 
retired  from  the  bench,  but  esteemed  as  few  ever 
have  been,  and  especially  honorable  for  his  steady 
friendship  for  America,  —  the  learned  and  virtuous 
Parke,  Lord  Wensleydale.  And  finally,  within 
the  last  few  months,  his  friends  and  relatives  in 
Boston  have  received  the  melancholy  tidings  of 
the  loss  of  one  of  the  most  distinguished  English 
lawyers  and  orators,  the  veteran  among  them  all, 
who,  at  tli"  age  of  eighty-eight,  when  scarce  able 
to  move,  still  could  protest  in  Parliament  against 
the  supineness  of  younger  leaders,  —  the  faithful 
and  honored  child  of  Cambridge,  the  son  of  the 
distinguished  arti-t,  whose  speaking  portraits  are 
among  the  choicest  decorations  of  our  mansions 
and  hall-,  the  Bo-ton  boy,  John  Singleton  Copley, 
Lord  Lyndhur.-t. 

But   there  are  two  callings,  which,  in   the   end, 


276  ON  THE   CAM. 

will  arrest  the  attention  of  the  world,  and  show  the 
value  of  education,  above  all  others.  The  profes- 
sion of  arms,  indeed,  may,  for  a  few  years,  be  all- 
important,  and  its  heroes  may  stand  highest  in  the 
world's  opinion  ;  but  it  is  for  a  few  years  only. 
We  ourselves,  who  are  at  this  moment  offering 
our  richest  treasure  and  our  best  blood  to  the  god 
of  war,  do  so  because  we  hope  by  these  offerings  to 
secure  generations  wherein  a  free  and  united  nation 
may  exercise  the  arts  of  peace.  It  is  to  States- 
manship and  to  Literature  that  we  must  look  to 
know  if  Cambridge  has  done  her  part  for  England 
and  the  world.  I  have  already  given  proofs  of  her 
pre-eminence  as  a  trainer  of  politicians  and  authors 
in  the  earlier  times  ;  but  the  annals  of  her  later  age 
will  equally  show  that  she  has  never  failed  to  yield 
her  quota  of  those  who  ride  the  state  of  England, 
and  form  the  mind  of  her  people. 

The  greatest  real  statesman  at  the  time  of  the 

o 

English  revolution  was  beyond  all  question  Sir 
William  Temple.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that 
he  understood  all  the  turns  of  an  English  parlia- 
mentary contest  as  well  as  Halifax  or  Shaftesbury, 
but  he  alone  understood  what  was  the  true  posi- 
tion England  should  occupy  in  the  family  of 
nations,  and  he  alone  had  the  adroitness  to  carry 
through  a  treaty  by  which  this  position  might  be 
secured.  He  was  too  timorous  and  too  selfish  to 
be  a  great  man ;  but  when  he  chose  to  forget 
himself  in  his  country,  or  rather  when  he  could  do 


LECTURE  IX.  277 

his  country  service  without  endangering  himself, 
he  performed  services  of  really  great  value,  with- 
out ruining  her  either  by  his  ambition  or  his 
avarice ;  —  and  the  side  he  espoused  has  re- 
ceived the  subsequent  commendation  of  all  true 
patriots  and  wise  men.  He  was  a  member  of 
Emmanuel  College,  Cambridge. 

But  the  next  generation  was  to  develop  a 
race  of  statesmen,  perhaps  even  superior  to  Tem- 
ple in  ability,  and  at  all  events  far  before  him  in 
spirit,  in  generosity,  in  energy.  No  statesman  of 
the  reio-n  of  William  III.,  not  even  Somers  him- 
self,  showed  such  marvellous  genius  for  founding 
a  new  national  glory  on  the  ruins  of  the  old  as 
Charles  Montague.  He  was  one  of  the  earliest 
pupils  of  Newton  at  Cambridge,  and  originally 
looked  forward  to  little  more  than  the  life  of  a 
college  fellow  or  a  country  rector.  But  the  Revo- 
lution,  that  brought  forward  all  the  talent  of  the 
Whig  party,  called  Montague  from  his  retirement. 
His  inventive  genius,  sharpened  by  the  differen- 
tial calculus  and  the  dynamics  of  a  particle,  threw 
itself  into  the  mysteries  of  finance  with  an  energy 
that  startled  the  old  exchequer-men.  When  the 
credit  of  the  crown  was  shaken  to  the  utmost,  and 
Louis  XIV.  was  congratulating  himself  that  the 
last  piece  of  gold  must  win,  Montague  brought  it 
up  from  the  dust,  by  the  then  novel  expedient  of 
creating  a  funded  debt,  and  issuing  treasury  notes, 
an   interesting  precedent   for  ourselves.     In  a  still 


278  ON   THE   CAM. 

darker  hour  he  created  the  Bank  of  England,  an 
act  alone  entitling  him  to  the  highest  praise  as  a 
wise  statesman  ;  and  finally,  when  the  whole 
country  was  tottering  under  a  debased  currency, 
his  admirable  system  of  recoinage  revived  and 
strengthened  it  as  it  never  had  been  strong  before. 
And  here  was  shown  the  wisdom  of  the  man ; 
he  knew  that  the  best  man  at  a  college  will, 
other  things  being  equal,  be  the  best  out  of  it, 
that  he  who  can  calculate  the  thickness  of  a  soap- 
bubble  to  the  millionth  of  an  inch,  could  calculate 
how  many  million  shillings  the  mint  could  issue  in 
a  day ;  and  the  complete  success  of  the  recoinage 
is  chiefly  due  to  his  filling  the  place  of  master 
of  the  mint  by  Sir  Isaac  Newton. 

Just  as  Montague  felt  that  the  Parliamentary 
sceptre  he  had  earned  so  well  and  held  so  long 
was  quivering  in  his  grasp,  the  House  of  Commons 
received  a  new  member,  also  from  Cambridge, 
whose  original  ideas,  like  those  of  Montague,  had 
been  to  remain  all  his  life  a  country  clergyman, 
with  some  assistance  from  his  college.  But  the 
death  of  his  elder  brother,  and  his  marriage  with 
the  daughter  of  a  rich  city  magnate,  procured 
him  a  seat  in  Parliament.  For  a  few  years  he 
was  engaged  in  the  injudicious  prosecution  of  the 
foolish  Sacheverell,  and  the  prominence  he  took 
therein  never  ceased  till  he  became  Prime  Minis- 
ter, till  he  became  all  but  sole  minister,  till  he  had 
silenced  opposition  so  long  that  men  recurred  to  it 


LECTURE   IX.  279 

merely  for  variety,  till  having  begun  Parliament- 
ary life  in  opposition  to  Bolingbroke,  lie  ended  it 
in  opposition  to  Chatham ;  till  he  and  his  great 
rival,  Pulteney,  having  had  all  eyes  concentrated 
on  their  Titanic  contests  for  years,  sank  into  the 
obscurity  of  high  rank ;  till  in  the  year  that  the 
Highlands  and  the  Continent  burst  into  one  furi- 
ous blaze,  the  grave  closed  over  Robert  Walpole. 

In  the  year  in  which  Walpole  died,  the  Lord- 
Lieutenancy  of  Ireland,  one  of  the  most  important 
offices  in  the  gift  of  the  crown,  and  attended  with 
some  privileges  known  to  no  other,  was  given  to 
another  graduate  of  Cambridge,  Philip  Stanhope, 
Earl  of  Chesterfield.  We  are  accustomed  to  think 
of  Lord  Chesterfield  only  as  a  model  of  politeness ; 
as  the  supercilious  patron  that  excited  the  enmity 
of  Johnson  ;  as  the  author  of  a  volume  of  letters 
dictated  apparently  by  fashionable  infidelity.  Such 
may  be  all  the  legacy  he  could  leave,  but  such  is 
far  too  little  injustice  to  his  life.  The  same  sweet 
grace  of  manner,  the  same  soft  tones  of  voice  that 
captivated  the  drawing-rooms,  rose  in  Parliament 
to  the  very  heights  of  eloquence  ;  the  same  dig- 
nity which  knew  how  to  maintain  the  place  of  a 
gentleman  in  all  circles  taught  him  how  to  hold 
high  office  till  the  arrogance  of  the  minister  allowed 
it  no  longer,  and  then  to  part  with  it  only  to  re- 
ceive it  back  when  Walpole  was  no  more.  And 
what  may  appear  to  us  through  the  mist  of  a  cen- 
tury but   the  airs  of  a  courtier,  were   in  truth  the 


280  ON   THE   CAM. 

adroitness  of  a  diplomat  and  the  ability  of  a  states- 
man. It  is  enough  glory  for  one  man  to  be  con- 
sidered the  best  lord-lieutenant  of  Ireland  through 
all  the  last  century. 

Chesterfield  died  at  the  age  of  seventy-nine,  in 
the  year  1773.  In  that  same  year  a  sickly  boy 
of  fourteen  was  entered  at  Pembroke  College  in 
Cambridge.  His  feeble  frame,  unable  to  bear  the 
hardships  of  a  public  school,  had  been  scarcely  sus- 
tained by  inordinate  doses  of  port  wine,  not  gener- 
ally employed  as  a  medicine  by  the  Englishmen 
of  that  period.  At  college  he  was  not  only  unu- 
sually skilled  in  mathematical  science,  but  a  con- 
summate master  of  ancient  literature.  Shy,  retir- 
ing, implicitly  regular  in  his  devotion  to  all  college 
requirements,  he  seemed  the  very  man  to  end  his 
days  as  tutor  of  his  college,  with  perhaps  the  pros- 
pect, if  he  lived  long  enough,  of  becoming  its  mas- 
ter. But  the  feeble-framed  youth  strangely  enough 
resolved  to  quit  this  life  of  academic  ease  so  well 
suited  to  him,  and  study  law.  Nor  did  he  appear 
to  have  made  a  failure.  Some  friends  of  his  father's, 
particularly  the  great  Dunning,  complimented  him 
highly  on  the  success  of  his  maiden  pleas.  Rely- 
ing too  much  on  his  precocity  and  his  descent  from 
an  Earl,  he  ventured  —  such  is  the  audacity  of 
youth  —  to  offer  himself  as  a  candidate  for  Parlia- 
ment from  the  University  of  Cambridge,  when 
only  twenty-one.  It  may  be  supposed  such  a  de- 
mand  was   at   once   rejected    bv  the   magnates   of 


LECTURE   IX.  281 

learning.  How  did  they  feel  when  only  three 
years  later  they  saw  the  sickly  boy,  at  the  age  of 
twenty-four,  Pime  Minister  of  England,  and  heard 
the  whole  nation  ringing  with  shouts  of  praise  at 
the  lofty  eloquence,  the  acute  management,  the 
undaunted  bearing  of  William  Pitt  the  younger ! 
Yes,  Pitt  is  a  true  son  of  Cambridge.  No  mere 
nominal  member  like  Erskine,  no  unruly  scape- 
grace like  Tliurlow,  no  unwilling  and  disgusted 
student  like  Bacon,  but  faithful,  diligent,  regular, 
till  the  licentious  age  made  his  virtue  a  laughing 
stock.  It  was  from  his  Thucydides  and  his  Conic 
Sections  that  he  learned  to  rule  the  Parliament 
and  encourage  the  nation.  Poor,  proud,  haughty, 
youthful,  he  secured  the  personal  respect  of  all 
classes  of  Englishmen,  such  as  was  never  accorded 
to  Walpole  or  Pelham,  or  even  his  great  father ; 
he  defied  the  desperate  fury  of  France  under  Car- 
not,  and  the  concentrated  magnificence  of  France 
under  Napoleon  ;  his  very  name  was  for  years  a 
mystical  bugbear  to  the  Jacobins,  for  generations 
a  mythical  watchword  to  the  Tories.  And  now 
that  senseless  hatred  and  senseless  love  are  alike 
passing  away,  the  great  son  of  Cambridge  shall 
shine  forth  year  after  year  the  parent  of  reform, 
the  abhorrer  of  the  slave-trade,  the  friend  of  relig- 
ious liberty,  the  splendid  orator,  the  undaunted 
patriot,  the  incorruptible  minister.  After  not  only 
Pitt  had  passed  away,  but  also  the  modern  Hanni- 
bal himself,  whose  victory  at  Austerlitz  had  slain, 


282  ON  THE   CAM. 

together  with  thirty  thousand  troops  of  the  allies, 
the  great  Englishman  whose  counsels  moved  them, 
Lord  Byron,  not  politically  a  friend  of  Pitt,  pro- 
nounced on  him  and  his  great  Parliamentary  rival 
a  sentence  which  should  he  remembered  by  all 
who  would  exalt  the  present  at  the  expense  of  the 
past. 

"  Reader,  remember,  when  thou  wert  a  lad, 
That  Pitt  was  all,  —  or,  if  not  all,  so  much 
His  very  rival  almost  deemed  him  such. 
We,  we  have  seen  the  intellectual  race 
Of  giants  stand,  like  Titans  face  to  face, — 
Athos  and  Ida,  with  a  dashing  sea 
Of  eloquence  between,  which  flowed  all  free 
As  the  deep  billows  of  the  yEgcan  roar 
Betwixt  the  Hellenic  and  the  Phrygian  shore. 
But  where  arc  they,  —  the  rivals  ?     A  few  feet 
Of  sullen  earth  divide  each  winding  sheet." 

Nor  can  I,  in  closing  this  section  of  my  lecture, 
omit  to  call  your  attention  to  a  son  of  Cambridge, 
who,  called  into  political  life  at  the  time  of  Pitt's 
death,  continued  in  it  over  fifty  years  with  the  re- 
spect of  his  rivals,  the  admiration  of  his  allies,  the 
devotion  and  love  of  his  friends,  —  who,  such  was 
the  confidence  in  his  abilities  and  his  probity,  was 
constantly  included  in  the  cabinet  by  special  pref- 
erence, after  all  the  offices  were  assigned  ;  who, 
gifted  with  rank,  with  wealth,  with  talent,  with 
power,  won  to  himself  a  yet  richer  glory  by  being 
the  constant  fosterer  of  genius,  the  patron  of  litera- 
ture, the  friend  of  his  country,  the  loyal  child  of 


LECTURE  LX.  283 

his  University,  and  left,  when  he  died,  in  extreme 
old  age,  preserving  his  intellectual  energy  to  the 
end,  no  name  more  honored  in  England  than  that 
of  Henry  Petty,  Marquis  of  Landsdowne. 

But  it  is  to  the  devotees  of  literature,  the  essay- 
ists, the  historians,  the  poets,  that  every  nation 
looks  for  her  most  lasting  honor,  and  every  college 
for  her  brightest  gloiy.  When  Milton  died  in 
poverty  and  obscurity,  leaving  his  great  works  to 
posterity,  there  was  perhaps  but  one  man,  and  he 
a  Cambridge  man,  who  had  both  the  ability  and 
the  will  to  come  to  anything  like  a  just  apprecia- 
tion of  their  value.  He  could  do  it,  because, 
though  a  loyalist  he  was  no  bigot,  —  because, 
though  a  sovereign  of  literature,  he  did  not  "  bear, 
like  the  Turk,  no  brother  near  the  throne."  Above 
all,  he  could  do  it  because  he  was  a  poet  himself. 
This  was  John  Dryden,  —  "  Glorious  John,"  as 
his  contemporaries  loved  to  call  him,  who  still, 
though  times  and  manners  and  taste  have  changed, 
must  preserve  the  admiration  of  all  real  lovers  of 
stirring  thoughts  set  forth  in  sounding  verse.  I 
know  his  rhymed  tragedies  are  fustian  and  bom- 
bast,—  1  know  in  the  delineation  of  character  he 
falls  far  short,  I  do  not  say  of  Shakespeare,  but 
of  Nat  Lee,  Southerne,  Congreve, — 1  know  his  re- 
ligious poems  are  more  absurd  than  that  of  Lucre- 
tius, and  his  panegyrics  more  fulsome  than  those  of 
Southey.  I > 1 1 1  let  any  one,  however  prepossessed 
in  favor  of  the  ultra  modern  or  ultra  antique  poetry, 


28-4  ON  THE   CAM 

read  through  nineteen  of  his  lines,  with  all  their 
conceits,  their  bombast,  their  nonsense,  and  the 
twentieth  shall  burst  upon  him,  stirring  his  heart 
like  the  sound  of  a  trumpet,  with  its  sonorous  mel- 
ody, its  kindling  energy,  its  manly  plainness,  and 
above  all  by  its  pure  native  nervous  English.  For 
in  his  management  of  our  noble  old  language,  Dry- 
den  knew,  as  no  other  man  knew  or  knows,  how 
to  sound  the  deeps  and  mount  the  heights  of  poe- 
try, with  scarce  a  line  that  a  rustic  could  not  fol- 
low, or  that  a  Bentley  would  not  praise.  When 
all  the  nerveless  jingle  of  the  past  age,  and  all  the 
tortured  vulgarisms  of  the  present  are  extinct  in 
oblivion,  the  mighty  strains  of  Dryden  shall  still 
sound  a  clarion  pealing  through  the  ages.  There 
is  no  one  from  whom  I  could  read  to  you  with 
more  satisfaction  than  Dryden,  but  I  must  content 
myself  with  a  very  few  lines,  a  part  of  his  transla- 
tion of  the  noblest  passage  in  Latin  poetry.  Listen 
to  them,  Americans,  as  addressed  to  you, — for 
you  are  to  inherit  the  glory  of  the  nations. 

"  But,  Home,  't  is  thine  alone  with  sceptred  sway 
To  rule  mankind,  and  make  the  world  obey, 
Controlling  peace  and  war,  thine  own  majestic  way. 
To  tame  the  proud,  the  fettered  slave  to  free, 
These  are  imperial  arts,  and  worthy  thee." 

Immediately  succeeding  Dryden  are  two  poets, 
one  the  most  successful  tragedian  of  his  ago,  in- 
deed  the  best  since  Shakespeare,  poor  Otway,  who 
finally  died  from  the  reaction   of  a  sudden  supply 


LECTURE   LX.  285 

of  food  arriving  too  late  to  save  him  from  starva- 
tion ;  and  Matthew  Prior,  who,  with  not  half  the 
genius  of  Otway,  was  placed  in  several  very  im- 
portant diplomatic  posts,  and  lived  in  the  richest 
and  best  company  for  many  years.  They  were 
fellow-students  at  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge. 

The  best  poem  of  Prior's  is  a  satire  on  Boileau's 
bombastic  ode  on  the  siege  of  Namur.  In  the 
next  generation,  a  son  of  Cambridge  introduced, 
with  exquisite  humor,  a  veteran  of  that  siege  as 
the  prominent  person  in  the  finest  specimen  of 
English  prose  wit  that  appeared  between  Gulli- 
ver's travels  and  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield.  And 
every  year  is  adding  new  laurels  and  new  plagi- 
giarists  to  the  captivating  works  of  Laurence 
Sterne. 

In  the  year  after  the  admission  of  Sterne  to 
Cambridge  its  gates  opened  to  receive  another 
guest,  the  painful  side  of  whose  college  life  I  have 
already  portrayed  to  you, —  Thomas  Gray.  I 
need  not  enlarge  to  an  audience  like  this  on  the 
merits  of  his  poetry.  The  same  fastidiousness  that 
disgusted  him  with  the  rude  mirth  of  Peterhouse, 
refined  and  polished  his  poems  to  the  last  pitch  of 
elegance  and  beauty.  Tantalizing  us  by  writing 
s'i  little,  and  still  more  by  the  lovely  fragments 
that  he  left  incomplete,  he  has  yet  given  to  the 
world  a  few  pieces  absolutely  perfect  of  their  kind, 
and  I  cannot  resist  reading  to  you  his  noble  de- 
scription of  academic   duty  and   pleasure,  the  ex- 


286  ON   THE  CAM. 

ordium  of  the  ode  from  which  I  quoted  in  my  first 
Lecture :  — 

"  Hence  !  avaunt !  't  is  holy  ground  ! 

Comus  and  his  midnight-crew, 
And  Ignorance,  with  looks  profound, 

And  dreaming  Sloth  of  pallid  hue, 
Mad  Sedition's  cry  profane, 
Servitude  that  hugs  her  chain  ; 
Nor,  in  these  consecrated  bowers, 
Let  painted  Flattery  hide  her  serpent  train  in  flowers, 
Nor  Envy  base,  nor  creeping  Gain 
Dare  the  Muses'  walk  to  stain, 
While  bright-eyed  Science  watches  round, 
Hence,  away,  't  is  holy  ground." 

In  the  same  year  with  Gray,  there  entered  at 
Cambridge  his  intimate  friend,  the  celebrated  Hor- 
ace Walpole,  whose  eccentric  talent  has  preserved 
to  us  so  much  curious  and  valuable  information  of 
his  own  time ;  and  in  the  year  after  Gray's  Elegy 
was  published,  the  wayward  genius  of  Churchill 
sought  admission  at  Cambridge,  but  he  never  re- 
sided there. 

Horace  Walpole  died  in  honor,  wealth,  and 
peace,  considerably  over  eighty  years  of  age,  in 
1797.  In  the  next  year,  the  coronet  of  a  long 
line  of  ancestors,  whose  fate  seemed  a  tissue  of 
madness,  slaughter,  and  sorrow,  descended  upon 
that  brilliant,  wayward,  ill-starred  son  of  Cam- 
bridge, George  Gordon,  Lord  Byron  of  New- 
stead. 

This  is  not  the  place  for  a  discussion  in  full  of 


LECTURE   IX.  287 

the  character  and  writings  of  Lord  Byron.  The 
taste  of  the  immediate  generation  is  turning  from 
his  poetry,  as  it  does  also  from  that  of  Scott.  But 
we  cannot  judge  of  a  poet  by  the  taste  either  of 
his  own  age  or  that  immediately  following.  The 
time  has  doubtless  ceased  when  Lord  Byron  is  to 
be  the  model  for  all  young  men  to  imitate  in  their 
management  of  verses  or  reverses.  But  I  trust 
the  time  has  also  gone  by  when  his  poems  are  to 
be  shelved  contemptuously  as  wanting  in  vigor, 
originality,  and  sweetness  of  diction,  —  or  his  char- 
acter sent  with  a  curse  from  society  as  his  statne 
was  from  Westminster  Abbey.  To  those  who 
spurn  alike  the  man  and  his  works  I  have  nothing 
to  say-  To  those  who  can  love  and  forgive,  I 
commend  the  last  stanzas  he  ever  wrote,  —  com- 
posed on  his  thirty-sixth  birthday,  on  that  distant 
shore  where  in  less  than  a  year  he  died.  They 
are  all  noble,  but  I  select  the  last  four. 

"  Awake  — not  Greece  —  she  is  awake  ! 

Awake,  my  spirit !    think  through  whom 
Thy  life-blood  tracks  its  parent  lake, 

And  then  strike  home  ! 
Tread  those  reviving  passions  down, 

Unworthy  manhood!    Unto  thee 
Indifferent  should  the  smile  or  frown 

Of  beauty  l.c. 
If  thou  rcgret'st  thy  youth,  vhy  live? 

The  laud  ui  honorable  death 
Is  here  !      Up  to  the  field,  and  j^ivo 
Awav  tliv  breath. 


288  ON   THE   CAM. 

Seek  out,  less  often  sought  than  found, 

A  soUlier's  grave,  —  for  thee  the  best ; 
Then  look  around,  and  choose  thy  ground, 
And  take  thy  rest." 

Two  of  the  poets  with  whom  Byron  quarrelled 
all  his  life,  though  he  had  more  points  of  resem- 
blance with  them  than  he  would  have  allowed, 
were  sons  of  Cambridge,  William  Wordsworth, 
and  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge.  The  life  and  the 
poetry  of  both  are  familiar  to  every  one  here,  but 
I  cannot  resist  extracting  a  sonnet  of  Wordsworth's, 
on  the  noble  picture  by  Holbein  of  Henry  VIII., 
in  the  Master's  Lodge  at  Trinity,  for  it  is  precisely 
the  thought  that  every  loyal  son  of  Cambridge  has 
of  the  stern  old  monarch. 

"  The  imperial  stature,  the  colossal  stride 
Are  yet  before  me ;  yet  do  I  behold 
The  broad  full  visage,  chest  of  amplest  mould, 
The  vestments  broidered  with  barbaric  pride ; 
And  lo  !  a  poniard  at  the  monarch's  side 
Hangs  ready  to  be  grasped  in  sympathy 
With  the  keen  threatenings  of  that  fulgent  eye, 
Below  the  white-rimmed  bonnet  far  descried. 
Who  trembles  now  at  thy  capricious  mood  1 
'Mid  those  surrounding  worthies,  haughty  king, 
We  rather  think  with  grateful  mind  sedate, 
How  Providence  educcth,  from  the  spring 
Of  lawless  will,  unlooked-for  streams  of  good, 
Which  neither  force  shall  check,  nor  time  abate." 

I  should  weary  you,  my  friends,  were  I  to  at- 
tempt to  relate  all  the  ingenious,  the  eloquent,  the 


LECTURE   EX.  289 

learned  writers  that  have  gone  forth  from  these 
ancient  halls.  Take  one  of  the  last  of  them  as  a 
picture  of  what  a  great  institution  can  do,  what  a 
faithful  pupil  can  be.  In  the  same  year  that  Lord 
Byron  closed  his  brilliant  and  fitful  career,  Trinity 
College  admitted  into  her  society  Thomas  Babing- 
ton  Macaulay,  and  throughout  his  life  he  lost  no 
opportunity,  —  and  who  had  more  or  better  ?  —  of 
exalting  the  name  and  honor  of  his  dear  Alma  Ma- 
ter. I  cannot  enter  here  into  a  discussion  of  his 
merits  or  quote  from  his  works.  I  cannot  even, 
what  I  should  gladly  do,  pronounce  a  panegyric 
upon  him.  For  when,  after  long,  long  years  of 
eager  expectation,  I  was  at  last  admitted  to  his  ac- 
quaintance, and  to  gaze  on  that  face  which  seemed 
to  have  been  at  my  side  from  infancy,  the  inter- 
view, too  short,  though  he  accorded  to  me  his 
kindest  words  and  his  richest  stores  of  intellectual 
wealth,  was  but  thirteen  days  before  the  news  fell 
upon  England  like  a  thunder-clap  that  he  was  no 
more.  Fellow-citizens,  think  what  you  will  of  the 
historian,  set  up,  if  you  will,  your  knowledge  against 
his,  the  most  vast  and  profound  erudition  of  the 
age,  but  dare  not  think  that  there  ever  lived  a 
loftier  intellect,  a  nobler  love  of  right  and  freedom, 
a  purer  soul,  a  tenderer  heart,  than  animated  the' 
clav  that  now  lies  at  the  feet,  of  his  beloved  Ad- 
dison  in  the  Poets'  ( 'orner. 

Such,  niv  friends,  is   a  list,  most  fragmentary, 
most  imperfect,  of  a  few  of  the  great  men  of  Cam- 

13  3 


290  ON  THE  CAM. 

bridge.  Is  not  such  a  line  of  sons  an  honor  to  any 
institution,  and  is  the  institution  that  can  send 
forth  such  sons  not  entitled  to  our  heartiest  and 
wannest  praises?  O,  believe  it!  Those  ancient 
halls  still  keep  pure  the  sacred  flame.  The  ap- 
pointed ministers  feed-  it  with  purest  food  and 
guard  it  with  unremitting  care ;  and  year  after 
year  there  go  forth  from  it  the  noblest  children  of 
a  noble  race,  to  strive,  to  suffer,  to  conquer,  in  the 
cause  of  right  and  justice,  for  the  sake  of  the  dear 
old  mother,  so  kind,  so  true,  so  generous. 

If  you  can  bear,  after  hearing  some  specimens 
of  the  finest  poets  of  England,  to  listen  to  the 
feeble  strains  of  Apollo's  humblest  votary,  let  your 
hearts  rise  with  mine  in  a 


SONG   FOR   CAMBRIDGE. 

All  hail,  thou  mother  of  our  sires  ! 
Hail,  home  of  learning,  pure  and  free  ! 
Thou  altar,  whence  the  sacred  fires 
Have  leapt  to  us  across  the  sea  ! 

E'en  as  they  knew  thee,  still  the  same 

Our  hearts  would  know  thee  now ; 
Still  rest  the  glory  on  thy  name, 
The  laurel  round  thy  brow. 

O  home,  where  Bacon's  eagle  sight 
Saw  realms  of  wonder  from  afar ; 
Whence  Newton's  lamp  of  heavenly  light 
Streamed  through  the  ages  like  a  star ; 


LECTURE  IX.  291 

Where  seraphs  brought  the  hallowed  fire 

That  blazed  in  Milton's  song,  — 
Whence  hosts  have  struck  the  prophet's  lyre, 

Or  swelled  the  statesmen's  throng ;  — 

O  halls  where  virtue's  armies  true 
Have  seen  their  fight  with  sin  begun ; 
Where  freedom's  flag,  of  gorgeous  hue, 
Is  handed  on  from  sire  to  son ; 

Where  ancient  Honor  ne'er  shall  fail 

Though  Shame  and  Falsehood  frown  ; 
Where  holy  Truth  shall  aye  prevail 
To  crush  confusion  down  ;  — 

O  take  our  greeting  !  from  the  sons 
Of  those  that  left  thee  for  the  wild  ! 
Still  in  our  veins  the  current  runs 
That  kindled  then  each  pious  child. 
And  still  for  all  thy  triumphs  past, 

In  all  thy  strife  to  come, 
God's  love  and  grace  on  thee  be  cast, 
Our  fathers'  honored  home  ! 


X. 


DRAWBACKS   OF   THE   CAMBRIDGE   LLFE. 

Favorable  Opinion  heretofore  expressed.  —  Abuses  and 
Extortions  by  Servants.  —  Expense  of  Living.  —  Posi- 
tion of  the  Aristocracy.  —  Hardships  of  Average  Men 
and  Advantages  of  Specialists.  —  Strong  Nationality 
of  the  University. 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen  :  — 

In  my  lectures  hitherto  I  have  endeavored  to 
describe  to  you  the  present  condition,  and,  as  far 
as  the  mention  of  distinguished  names  can  indi- 
cate, some  of  the  past  history  of  the  University 
of  Cambridge.  We  have  gone  through  the  ob- 
jects,  means,  and  impulses  of  study,  the  daily  and 
exceptional  life  of  its  undergraduates,  and  the 
history  of  some  of  its  more  celebrated  pupils.  If 
you  were  actually  with  me  at  Cambridge,  we 
should  very  probably,  after  such  a  walk  round 
the  colleges  as  I  described  to  you  in  my  seventh 
lecture,  retire  to  my  rooms  in  the  Old  Court  of 
Trinity,  and,  while  the  fountain  plashed  unceas- 
ingly, and  the  old  clock  struck  out  every  quarter 
of  an  hour,  sit  down  and  talk  over  what  we  had 
seen.  We  may  very  appropriately  do  something 
of  the  same  kind  here,  and  having  passed  nine 
evenings  together  in   using  our  eyes  about  Cam- 


LECTURE   X.  293 

bridge,  employ  three  to  think  over  what  and 
where  she  is  in  her  relations  to  England,  to  the 
world,  and  to  the  general  interests  of  Truth  and 
Learning. 

But  in  the  same  way  that,  in  taking  a  real  walk, 
we  do  not  confine  ourselves  to  the  mere  contem- 
plation of  the  objects,  but  likewise  to  the  discus- 
sion of  them,  it  has  been  impossible  for  me  to 
avoid  interspersing  my  description  of  Cambridge 
institutions  with  some  reflections  on  their  value. 
Nor  have  I  been  careful  in  this  matter  to  refrain 
from  hearty  commendation.  I  have  lived  at  Cam- 
bridge not  as  an  outsider,  but  a  member  of  its  very 
inmost  system,  and  I  could  no  more  give  you  a 
cold,  uninterested  account  here,  than  I  could  take 
a  walk  through  its  halls  with  you  like  another 
stranger.  Nor  would  you  expect  it.  You  would 
not  think  it  right,  that  any  man  should,  of  his  own 
choice,  against  the  wishes  and  preferences  of  many 
friends,  deliberately  connect  himself  for  over  three 
years  with  an  institution,  and  leave  it  with  no 
more  respect  and  love  than  a  stranger. 

Hence  I  do  not  seek  to  excuse  or  defend  the 
praises  I  have  at  various  points  in  these  lectures 
accorded.  I  do  believe  that  the  Cambridge  studies 
have  been  well  selected  originally,  and  added  to 
judiciously,  — that  the  means  of  study  are  in  their 
design  wise,  and  in  their  operation  thorough,  — 
that  the  course  pursued  with  the  different  classes 
of  undergraduates  is   far  superior  to  that  at  most 


294  ON   THE   CAM. 

other  Universities  with  which  I  am  acquainted,  — 
that  the  estimation  in  which  scholarship  and  the 
rewards  and  incentives  to  scholarship  are  held,  is 
more  philosophic  in  theory  and  infinitely  more 
generous  in  practice  than  that  to  which  we  are 
accustomed.  For  the  life  of  the  young  men,  I  do 
not  know  that  it  is  more  thoroughly  enjoyed  than 
college  life  is  anywhere  else.  I  suppose  the  un- 
dergraduate always  has  the  perfection  of  enjoyment 
as  far  as  a  mortal  can  look  for  it.  But  I  do  believe 
that  at  Cambridge  it  proceeds  on  a  more  rational 
basis,  and  is  tempered  with  far  less  jealousy  and 
heart-burnings  than  that  life  we  are  so  proud  of 
at  our  colleges.  In  particular,  I  think  that  the 
whole  problem  of  the  proper  combination  of  study 
and  exercise  has  been  better  solved,  though  not 
perfectly,  than  anywhere  else.  Lastly,  I  believe 
that  the  character  of  the  graduates  at  Cambridge, 
who  have  distinguished  themselves  in  public  or 
private  life,  speaks  in  the  highest  terms  for  the 
quality  of  the  education  given  there,  and  more 
particularly  for  the  spirit  of  liberality  and  progress 
which  they  seem  to  draw  in  from  the  thick  and 
dank  atmosphere  of  the  Cam. 

If  I  were  to  rest  my  judgment  here,  —  if  I  were 
only  to  give  you  such  opinions  of  a  commendatory 
strain,  with  occasional  touches  of  the  ludicrous,  as 
have  presented  themselves  in  the  course  of  our  ex- 
amination, I  should  leave  you  with  a  most  incor- 
rect idea  of  what  I  thought,  and  probably  a  very 


LECTURE  X.  295 

erroneous  view  of  the  subject  itself.  I  have  urged 
the  merits  of  Cambridge,  and  I  hope  to  have  a 
still  further  opportunity  to  urge  them  the  more 
strongly,  because  I  know  that  there  are  certain 
faults  in  its  system,  which  it  would  be  alike  unjust 
and  ungenerous  to  other  institutions  to  slur  over 
or  omit.  It  was  my  happiness,  before  going  to 
Cambridge,  to  pass  four  years  at  our  own  match- 
less college,  and  hence,  having  an  equality  of  filial 
interest  at  the  two  Cambridges,  I  am  impelled  to 
seek  out  the  virtues  of  either  as  having  belonged 
to  it,  and  the  faults  of  either  as  having  belonged  to 
the  other.  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  have  you 
think  I  endorsed  an  institution  in  which  1  con- 
stantly found  much  to  reprehend,  —  and  in  partic- 
ular, I  should  be  exceedingly  sorry  if  any  young 
American,  actuated  by  my  own  enthusiasm,  should 
rashly  connect  himself  with  an  English  University 
without  knowing  something  of  the  difficulties  he 
would  have  to  encounter. 

The  most  agreeable  part  of  English  University 
experience,  beyond  a  doubt,  is  the  undergraduate 
life  that  I  described  to  you  in  my  filth  and  sixth 
lectures.  The  difficulties  of  prosecuting  a  success- 
ful course  of  study  are  obvious,  from  the  intensity 
of  the  competition,  and  the  high  standard  of  the 
examinations,  —  and  in  the  case  of  a  foreigner 
there  i.-,  added  to  this,  his  inexperience  in  the 
previous  training  of  the  young  men,  so  peculiarly 
English    in   its  character,      hut    the    amusements, 


293  ON  THE   CAM. 

the  convivialities,  the  enjoyment  of  all  kinds  of 
the  undergraduate  life,  seem  beset  with  no  such 
thorns,  and  in  point  of  fact,  many  who  cannot,  by 
hook  or  by  crook,  work  themselves  up  to  any  un- 
derstanding or  appreciation  of  the  system  of  study, 
slip  easily,  with  hardly  a  previous  acquaintance, 
an  element  of  'prestige,  or  an  hour  of  exertion,  into 
the  pleasantest  rut  of  Cambridge  life. 

Now  it  is  just  in  this  bed  of  roses  that  the  sharp- 
est prickles  are  found  ;  and  I  feel  it,  therefore,  my 
duty  to  allude,  first  of  all,  to  the  faults  of  Cam- 
bridge as  exhibited  in  its  daily  life. 

The  first  drawback  which  any  resident  at  Cam- 
bridge must  feel  very  keenly,  but  especially  an 
American,  is  the  vested  rights,  privileges,  perqui- 
sites, with  which  he  is  surrounded  as  in  a  perfect 
network.  I  have  said  everybody  is  left  free  to 
choose  his  own  way  of  spending  his  time.  So  he 
is  by  his  compeers,  but  not  by  his  inferiors,  —  not 
by  those  appointed  to  wait  on  him  and  help  him. 
There  is  connected  with  an  English  college  a  per- 
fect army  of  servants,  marshalled  in  corps  d'armee, 
divisions,  regiments,  and  battalions,  and  all  with  an 
amount  of  vested  rights  enouirh  to  stifle  one  with 
the  bare  enumeration.  In  the  first  place,  there 
are  the  bedmakers  ;  nominally,  there  is  one  as- 
signed to  every  eight  rooms,  and  she  has  one 
assistant  under  her.  Practically,  a  person  once 
appointed  to  this  seriously  lucrative  and  respon- 
sible   place    never   gives  it  up,   although    utterly 


LECTURE   X.  297 

superannuated,  toothless,  and  tottering.  Accord- 
ingly her  one  assistant  will  grow  into  two,  and  the 
two  will  have  three  or  four  extra  miscellaneous 
ones  generally  floating  round,  to  do  everything 
that  their  chiefs  are  too  lazy  to  do  themselves. 
On  my  own  staircase,  the  bedmaker  in  chief,  a 
hearty  young  woman  of  thirty-five  or  six,  em- 
ployed her  old  father,  at  least  seventy-seven  or 
eight  years  old,  to  do  all  her  hardest  work,  in  the 
way  of  drawing  water,  etc.  Now,  these  good 
ladies  are  much  more  in  possession  of  your  prem- 
ises then  you  are  yourself.  They  have  a  key  to 
get  into  your  room  at  all  hours,  even  when,  as  in 
some  cases  of  peculiar  locks,  the  regular  custodian 
has  not.  According  to  their  taste  or  fancy  they 
are  more  or  less  on  the  staircase  ;  but  generally, 
you  are  sure  to  see  them  from  early  dawn  till 
noon,  from  four  till  six,  and  a  good  bit  in  the 
later  evening.  They  constitute  themselves  inspec- 
tresses-general  over  all  your  belongings  and  ar- 
rangements, and  know  all  about  you  much  better 
than  you  do  yourself.  You  are  hopelessly  in  their 
power,  and  have  your  choice  of  submitting  quietly 
to  their  ultra-despotic  rule,  or  of  carrying  on  a 
constant  warfare.  In  this  you  have  onlv  one  ad- 
vantage, a  superior  command  of  language,  for  the 
population  of  Cambridge  is  very  slow  of  speech, 
and  wholly  uninventivc.  But  as  they  have  the 
whole  charge  of  everything,  as  their  places  are 
very  valuable,  and  they  are  exceedingly  ready  to 


208  ON   THE   CAM. 

perform  extra  services  for  extra  pay,  they  can 
make  you  very  comfortable  or  uncomfortable  if 
they  will.  For  instance,  they  attend  to  setting 
out  the  breakfast  and  tea  in  your  rooms.  For  this 
they  order  from  the  butteries  eveiy  day  about 
twice  as  much  bread  and  butter  as  a  man  wants, 
and  at  the  end  of  the  day  all  that 's  left  goes  to 
them,  by  immemorial  custom,  as  perquisites.  And 
any  meats  left  from  a  dinner,  breakfast,  etc.,  unless 
specially  mentioned  by  you,  go  to  them  as  per- 
quisites; and  so  on.  You  not  only  are  charged  a 
handsome  sum  in  your  bill  for  their  care  of  rooms, 
but  another  separate  charge  for  their  beer  money  ; 
and  over  and  above  all  this,  every  undergraduate, 
not  professedly  a  beneficiary,  is  expected  to  pay  a 
good  sum  more  at  the  end  of  every  term  as  a  pure 
gratuity.  They  form  an  immense  body,- — several 
score,  all  banded  together  by  common  interest, — 
grown  old  in  the  college,  and  handing  down  their 
power  and  property  to  their  nieces  and  daughters, 
so  that  they  come,  no  doubt,  to  regard  it  as  a  per- 
fect family  mansion,  and  hold  the  undergraduates, 
and  fellows  too,  completely  in  subjection.  Their 
honesty  is  quite  above  suspicion  —  in  some  cases. 
Strictly  allied  to  the  bedmakers  by  tenure  of 
office,  by  identity  of  interest,  and  often  by  real 
affinity  or  consanguinity,  are  the  gyps.  I  have 
already  explained  this  word  to  be  from  the  Greek 
yvty,  a  vulture.  The  gyps  form  a  principal  division 
of  the  grand  army.     They  are  engaged  in  waiting 


LECTURE  X.  299 

at  the  high,  and  some  of  them  at  the  low  tables  in 
the  hall,  though  the  body  of  the  waiters  are  of  a 
lower  grade,  and  each  one  of  them  acts  as  servant 
to  as  many  undergraduates  as  choose  to  engage  him. 
The  principal  duties  which  we  conceive  as  belong- 
in^  to  a  servant  in  college,  viz.  making  fires, 
bringing  water,  and  blacking  boots,  are  performed, 
the  first  two  by  the  bedmaker,  the  last  two  by  the 
brigade  of  college  boot-blacks.  The  gyp  calls  you 
in  the  morning,  brushes  your  clothes,  cleans  your 
lamps,  runs  your  errands,  and  waits  at  your  enter- 
tainments. The  last  two  duties  he  performs  when 
you  can  get  him  to,  when  some  other  of  his  multi- 
farious duties  to  other  masters  does  not  call  him 
off.  For  all  this  you  pay  him  a  regular  sum, 
pretty  high  when  you  consider  how  many  masters 
he  has,  and  for  any  extra  demands  on  him  you  are 
expected  to  nay  him  extra.  You  are  not  at  Trin- 
ity obliged  to  employ  him  it' you  think  you  can  dis- 
pense with  his  services,  but  at  some  other  colleges 
the  gyps,  like  the  Oxford  scouts,  are  attached  to 
particular  sets  of  rooms.  The  character  of  the 
gvps  is  still  less  honest  and  acceptable  than  that  of 
tin;  bedmakers  ;  most  of  them  are  either  entirely 
too  old  and  worn  out,  or  young,  impudent,  and 
thievish.  I  had  three,  one  who  was  tremendously 
passionate,  and  all  but  unmanageable,  though  a 
good  servant  ;  another  so  wholly  old  and  fussy  that 
nobodv  could  do  anything  with  him,  and  the  third 
one  fine  day  was  dismissed  on  a  charge  of  assisting 


300  ON   TUE   CAM. 

some  of  Ills  masters  in  disreputable  practices.  The 
whole  set  may  be  denned  as  leeches. 

After  the  gyps  come  the  porters.  Of  these  there 
are  five  employed  at  Trinity,  who  have  an  inter- 
esting tax  appropriated  peculiarly  to  themselves. 
The  government  of  England  undertakes,  in  con- 
sideration of  the  established  rates  of  postage,  to 
deliver  all  letters  to  their  exact  address.  Each 
college  in  Cambridge  is  regarded,  very  properly, 
as  one  dwelling,  at  the  gate  of  which  the  govern- 
ment would  naturally  agree  to  deliver  letters.  The 
porters  then,  at  the  monstrous  charge  of  a  half- 
penny apiece,  half  as  much  as  the  whole  postage 
on  any  ordinary  letter  from  one  end  of  England 
to  the  other,  agree  to  deliver  each  one  at  your 
rooms.  In  case  you  should  wish  to  avoid  this 
portentous  and  illegal  tax,  and  desire  to  have  your 
letters  left  at  the  porter's  lodge,  or  the  post-office, 
you  can't  do  it,  for  the  porter  goes  every  mail  to 
the  post-office  with  his  bag,  and  by  immemorial 
custom  takes  all  the  letters  addressed  to  your  col- 
lege, and  you  can't  get  them  except  through  Ins 
hands.  And  this  extra  postage  all  goes  to  the 
porters. 

We  have  also  the  boot-blacks,  who,  in  their 
blacking,  cut  your  boots  to  pieces  with  a  knife, 
the  window-cleaners  and  glaziers,  and  an  army 
more.  There  are  several  servants  belonging  to 
the  college  somehow  whom  the  officials  don't 
know  what  to  put  to.     I  saw  one  day  an  old  crea- 


LECTURE  X.  301 

ture  performing  the  very  tedious  process  of  scrap- 
ing out  the  grass  and  weeds  from  between  the 
paving-stones  of  the  court,  with  great  labor  and  to 
very  little  purpose,  as  the  scraping  turns  up  the 
earth,  and  fertilizes  it  for  the  reception  of  new 
weeds.  I  asked  a  friend  in  authority  why  they 
didn't  employ  some  of  the  chemical  destructive 
agents,  with  which  agricultural  science  is  teeming, 
which  would  do  the  work  in  a  few  hours,  and  with 
much  more  lasting  effect,  and  save  all  this  tedious 
picking.  "Why,"  said  he,  "that's  just  what  we 
don't  want  to  save  ;  we  've  got  these  men  on  our 
hands,  and  we  must  give  them  something  to  do." 

And  this  is  the  way  an  English  college  is  eaten 
up.  At  every  stage  of  your  course,  bed,  board, 
chapel,  amusement,  you  are  beset  by  a  crowd  of 
servitors,  who,  under  the  name  of  waiting  on  you, 
while  they  are  officiously  pressing  on  you  a  hun- 
dred comforts  you  don't  want,  bar  you  of  the 
greatest  comfort,  your  liberty,  and  fleece  you  in 
a  thousand  wavs.  You  cannot  have  anything 
done,  your  hoots  blacked,  your  clothes  washed,  in 
your  own  wav,  but  in  some  special,  immemorial, 
conventional  wav,  which,  for  ought  I  know,  is  in 
King  Henry  VIII. 's  original  grant.  And  for 
every  service,  real  or  nominal,  thus  rendered, 
vou  have  not  only  to  pay  well,  but  to  sweeten 
it  in  a  thousand  wavs.  Three  or  four  times  a 
term,  comes  a  loud  knock  at  the  door.  "  Come 
in."        A     stalwart    man    enters,    depositing    your 


302  ON   THE   CAM. 

boots,  which  he  usually  leaves  outside  your  door. 
"  Thank  you  for  a  drop  of  ale,  sir.  The  boot- 
black, sir."  And  this  little  means  of  washing 
down  the  disgusts  of  labor  you  are  expected  to 
furnish  all  the  time  to  all  sorts  of  people,  the  bed- 
maker,  washerwoman,  and  waiter  in  hall  having 
a  special  charge  of  beer  money  made  on  the  bill. 
If  you  are  unfortunate  enough  to  take  a  scholar- 
ship, or  a  distinguished  degree,  every  servant,  or  a 
deputation  from  every  class  of  servants,  calls  upon 
you  with  this  sort  of  speech  :  "  The  porters,  sir, 
wish  to  congratulate  you  on  getting  your  scholar- 
ship" ;  and  that  means  money,  —  hard,  sterling 
coin,  in  silver,  aye,  or  gold,  according  to  the  rank  of 
the  official ;  and  when  five  or  six  select  committees 
thus  congratulate  you,  it  becomes  no  slight  tax  to  a 
poor  young  man,  who,  perhaps,  is  dependent  upon 
this  very  scholarship  for  support.  I  once  dropped 
a  gold  ring  in  chapel.  I  knew  exactly  its  place, 
but  did  not  want  to  stop  and  lift  up  the  hassock 
myself ;  so  I  asked  the  chapel  clerk,  whose  busi- 
ness it  is  to  clean  out  the  chapel,  and  who  gets 
capital  pay  therefor,  to  get  it  for  me.  Before  I 
had  well  got  to  my  room,  it  was  brought ;  and  be- 
fore I  had  well  put  it  on  my  finger  I  was  asked 
for  some  money  to  compensate  a  man  for  looking 
where  I  told  him  to.  This  spirit  of  treating  a 
gentleman  like  a  milch  cow,  to  use  Sir  Walter 
Scott's  expression,  is  too  common  all  through  Eng- 
land,  but  especially  in  the  country  near  Cambridge. 


LECTURE   X.  303 

It  is  said  that  an  undergraduate,  out  on  a  walk, 
saw  a  small  child  tumble  into  one  of  the  deep,  wide, 
and  slippery  ditches  that  stagnate  all  round  Cam- 
bridge. At  the  risk  of  his  life,  he  fished  it  out, 
took  it  home  to  its  mother,  who  overwhelmed  him 
with  blessings,  and  went  back  to  college,  like  Dr. 
Holmes's  clerk,  "  with  a  glow  in  his  heart  and  a 
cold  in  his  head."  The  next  day  enter  the  child's 
father,  full  of  the  most  profuse  and  choice  benedic- 
tions. The  student  stopped  the  flood,  assured  him 
he  wanted  nothing  said  about  it,  and  was  rejoiced 
the  child  was  safe.  The  father,  instead  of  moving 
away,  pulled  his  forelock  again,  and  observed,  in 
the  inimitable  Cambridge  grunt,  —  "  Have  n't  you 
got  half-a-crown,  sir,  for  a  poor  man  to  drink  your 
honor's  health  in  ?  " 

I  fear  I  have  failed  to  describe  accurately  this 
system  of  extortion  and  small  presents  going  on  all 
the  time  at  the  University  ;  it  will  probably  ap- 
pear to  you  a  very  trifling  matter.  But  if  you 
consider  that  it  is  universally  practised,  —  that 
some  sixty  or  seventy  persons,  much  more  inti- 
mately and  indissolubly  connected  with  the  college 
than  yourself,  are  interested  in  keeping  it  up, — 
that  you  are  dependent  on  them  for  a  great  variety 
of  services,  and  that  these  services,  and  the  extor- 
tions thev  lead  to.  are  made  almost  absolutely  ne- 
ces>arv  bv  a  rigid  chain  of  custom,  drawn  round  you 
bv  the  force  of  centuries  of  tradition,  —  that  if  you 
want  the  slightest  variation,  anything  done  in  vour 


304  ON  THE  CAM. 

own  way,  you  must  have  a  hand-to-hand  fight  for 
it,  on  each  separate  occasion,  —  you  will  see  that 
there  is  a  never-ending  outrage  on  that  feeling  of 
pure  independence  which  a  young  man  in  America 
so  thoroughly  enjoys.  The  life  at  Cambridge  is 
like  walking  in  a  great  and  elegantly  kept  park 
or  pleasure-ground.  You  may  see  and  smell  the 
flowers,  but  you  cannot  pick  any  of  them  ;  the 
fountain  will  play,  but  only  just  so,  and  at  such 
times.  You  must  only  walk  on  the  paths,  or,  per- 
chance, must  submit  to  be  taken  the  grand  round, 
from  which  you  cannot  deviate  ;  so  that,  after  get- 
ting through  all  the  countless  wonders  and  glories, 
you  long  for  a  ramble  through  a  tangled  forest,  or 
a  scour  over  a  breezy  heath,  or  a  lounge  by  some 
wild-wood  brook,  where  the  beauties  are  infinitely 
less  varied,  less  rare,  less  elegant,  but  where  you 
are  free  to  enjoy  everything  your  own  way. 

I  pass  from  this  annoyance,  which  is  soon 
lessened  by  use,  and  the  really  delightful  char- 
acter of  the  University  life,  to  another  much 
more  serious  trouble,  —  the  expense  of  living  at 
an  English  University.  I  have  explained  that 
there  is  at  Cambridge  a  large  class  of  young 
men,  not  at  all  engaged  or  supposed  to  be  en- 
gaged in  study  or  competition  for  rank,  whose 
time,  for  almost  the  whole  of  their  University 
career,  is  wholly  at  their  own  disposal,  but  who 
are  obliged,  like  all  the  other  students,  to  pass 
their  time  in  Cambridge.      There  is  no  restraint 


LECTURE  X.  305 

on  their  indulging  in  an y  sort  of  luxury.  They 
can  have  the  most  costly  dinners  and  suppers  by 
virtue  of  a  tutor's  order  from  the  College  kitchens, 
—  they  can  keep  horses  at  the  College  stables, 
where  many  of  the  fellows  keep  theirs,  —  they 
are  only  sixteen  miles  from  Newmarket  heath, 
where  there  are  more  races  in  the  course  of  the 
year  than  at  any  ten  other  places  put  together. 
They  have  therefore  every  temptation  and  every 
opportunity  to  exercise  freely  all  the  most  ex- 
pensive tastes,  and  have  not  the  opportunity  to 
indulge  them  in  the  metropolis,  or  anywhere  but 
in  Cambridge  itself.  They  are  the  sons  of  the 
richest  men  in  England,  —  noblemen,  country 
gentlemen,  rich  merchants,  who  send  them  there 
to  live,  not  expecting,  perhaps  not  wishing  them 
to  study,  and  indulging  them  in  every  sort  of  lux- 
ury. Their  leaders  are  a  few  noblemen,  young 
men  of  independent  fortune,  or  the  eldest  sons  of 
such,  who  have  no  motive  for  economy  of  any 
kind.  These  have  a  sort  of  right  to  spend  money 
freely.  They  set  the  fashion  for  those  of  kindred 
tastes  who  are  dependent  on  their  parents.  There 
is  thus  formed  a  considerable  set  in  the  University, 
none  of  whom  spend  less  than  four  hundred 
pounds  a  year,  and  so  on  up  to  one  thousand, 
or  even  more.  All  this  great  expenditure,  not 
at  home,  not  in  London,  but  i:i  the  very  heart, 
the  daily  life  of  the  University,  raises  the  stand- 
ard    of    Cambridge    expenses    immensely.       The 


306  ON   THE  CAM. 

young  men  who  merely  wish  to  live  a  respecta- 
ble, comfortable  life,  find  the  price  of  their  re- 
spectable comforts  very  much  raised  by  the  con- 
comitant demand  for  luxuries,  and  by  the  neces- 
sity the  tradesmen  are  under  of  making  up  for 
the  bad  debts  of  these  gay  young  noblemen  and 
gentlemen.  For  this  system  of  very  extensive 
orders  in  all  the  departments  of  elegance  has  cre- 
ated a  corresponding  system  of  credit.  It  is  all 
very  well  to  make  a  resolution  to  pay  ready  money, 
but  it  is  very  difficult,  when  you  want  in  a  hurry 
a  new  text-book,  or  a  pound  of  coffee  or  sugar, 
or  to  replace  a  broken  teacup,  or  to  hire  half  a 
dozen  forks  and  spoons  for  a  dinner,  to  pay  down, 
when  you  find  that  any  wish  can  be  supplied  at 
once  on  credit.  Moreover,  almost  all  the  trades- 
men are  obliged  to  send  their  bill  to  the  tutor  for 
his  inspection,  if  not  paid  on  the  spot,  and  all 
under  a  certain  amount  are  paid  through  him, 
and  put  down  on  his  account  together  with  the 
items  as  legitimate  college  expenses.  This  is  a 
great  temptation  to  expenditure,  as  the  students 
know  that  the  authorities  at  home  will  not  re- 
fuse to  pay  what  appears  on  the  tutor's  account. 
And  so,  one  thing  with  another,  the  standard  of 
expense  is  raised  beyond  measure.  Englishmen 
are  not  an  economical  race.  They  can  live  in 
great  straits,  —  many  of  them  habitually  do,  —  but 
an  English  gentleman  who  allows  himself  any 
luxury  or  comfort  at  all  must  have  it  of  the  very 


LECTURE  X.  807 

best.  The  result  of  it  is  that  at  the  University 
the  beneficiaries  live  in  extremely  modest  style, 
their  needs  are  supplied  by  the  college,  and  in 
return  they  are  restricted  from  certain  other  ex- 
penditures. They  work  all  the  time  in  college, 
in  the  hope  of  a  fellowship  or  similar  assistance 
at  the  end.  All  those  who  rise  above  this  very- 
reduced  standard  are  obliged  to  spend  more  for 
every  article  than  it  is  worth,  more  than  even 
London  prices,  and  constantly  be  in  the  position 
of  renouncing  their  natural  associates,  or  just 
keeping  on  the  verge  of  debt.  For  the  necessity 
in  all  the  college  sets  of  giving  entertainments, 
joining  clubs,  etc.,  to  which  you  are  driven  by 
the  immense  esprit  de  corps  and  love  of  good- 
fellowship  that  exists  among  English  young  men, 
and  for  which  there  is  so  much  more  licensed 
opportunity  than  here,  makes  it  impossible  for 
one  to  live  modestly  and  by  himself  unless  he 
sinks  to  a  mere  anchorite  or  eleemosynary. 

I  do  not  think  the  undergraduates  themselves 
are  conscious  of  this.  I  do  not  doubt  that  many 
of  them,  if  they  heard  me,  would  reclaim  indig- 
nantlv  against  the  exaggerated  picture*  I  have 
drawn  of  the  necessity  of  living  handsomely,  lint 
I  think  their  fathers  would  agree  with  me.* 

I  have  mentioned  the  advantage  the  young  no- 
blemen ami  sons  of  noblemen  have  over  the  others 
in  the  matter  of  expenditure.  I  shall  probably  be 
*  Sec  further  in  the  Appendix  to  this  hunk. 


308  ON   THE   CAM. 

asked  if  they  have  not  a  very  great  advantage  over 
all  the  others  in  eveiy  way,  —  if  there  is  not  a 
perfectly  revolting  system  of  toadying  and  court- 
ing them,  —  if  they  are  not  allowed  all  manner 
of  liberties  not  accorded  to  the  others.  I  answer, 
certainly  not  to  the  extent  supposed  here.  The 
general  opinion  of  Americans  as  to  the  exal- 
tation accorded  to  the  nobility  in  England  is  per- 
haps not  exaggerated,  but  it  supposes  them  exalt- 
ed in  a  very  different  way  from  what  they  actu- 
ally are.  In  general,  they  are  important,  not  from 
their  rank,  but  their  wealth,  and  the  hereditary 
aristocracy  continues  to  be  an  important  part  of 
the  governing  power,  because  it  is  a  moneyed 
and  a  landed  aristocracy,  an  elevation,  I  fancy, 
not  peculiar  to  England.  But  this  is  in  general. 
With  regard  to  the  position  of  the  young  nobility 
at  school  and  college,  let  us  go  a  little  deeper. 
And  in  the  first  place,  at  the  great  public  schools, 
at  Eton  and  Harrow,  a  boy  of  noble  birth,  even 
though  he  were  a  duke,  is  treated  exactly  like 
another.  If  bright  and  handsome  he  is  petted, — 
if  stupid  he  is  laughed  at,  —  if  unruly  he  is  whipped, 
—  if  insolent  he  is  kicked.  There  is  a  story  told 
in  different  terms  of  a  great  many  scions  of  aris- 
tocracy, among  others  of  the  late  Lord  Aberdeen, 
on  their  first  entrance  at  school.  The  fullest 
form  is  that  a  boy,  who  had  always  been  petted  at 
home,  and  at  some  foolish  private  school,  soon  after 
arriving  at    Eton,    heard    a  gruff  voice   shouting 


LECTURE   X.  309 

the    usual    question,  —  "I   say,   you  new   fellow, 

what 's  your  name  ?  "     "  Lord  John  H ,  son 

of  the  Marquis   of  B ."     "  O,    indeed,  then 

there  's  one  kick  for  my  lord  and  two  for  the  mar- 
quis." In  other  words,  there  is  no  difference 
made  between  the  young  lords  and  the  young; 
louts  ;  very  often  the  two  are  identical.  At  the 
University,  there  is  not  this  absolute  equality 
among  the  young  men.  The  young  noblemen  are 
at  once  selected  for  certain  clubs,  —  but  I  do 
not  know  that  they  are  more  certainly  selected 
than  others  of  equal  wealth  and  equal  notoriety. 
The  son  of  a  man  distinguished  in  any  way  is  al- 
ways eagerly  looked  out  for  at  the  University,  and 
at  once  adopted  into  whatever  circle  seems  best 
suited  to  him,  whether  his  father's  distinction  is  a 
peerage  or  not.  As  far  as  I  could  see,  a  good  deal 
of  attention  was  shown  to  the  young  nobility,  but 
no  unusual  deference  ;  and  the  extra  notice  was 
very  soon  forfeited,  unless  it  continued  to  be  de- 
served by  personal  qualities.  The  noblemen  de- 
rive a  little  additional  favor  from  the  authorities, — 
some  of  them  of  specially  high  rank  are  obliged  to 
pay  the  extra  fees  and  sit  at  the  high  table,  —  this 
brings  them  naturally  into  the  acquaintance  of  the 
fellows,  dining  with  them  every  day.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  they,  in  common  with  all  the  fellow- 
commoners  who  avail  themselves  of  this  expensive 
privilege,  are  treated  more  leniently  in  respect  to 
chapels  and  lecture-.     Sometimes,  if  a  young  no- 


310  ON   THE   CAM. 

bleman  of  very  high  rank  becomes  a  member  of 
the  college,  there  are  seen  peculiar  evidences  of 
affection,  but  chiefly  on  the  part  of  a  few  fellows, 
despised  by  their  associates  and  inferiors. 

The  following  story  was  told  as  happening  while 
I  was  in  college,  of  one  of  the  proctors.  lie  met 
two  young  men  without  caps  and  gowns  one  even- 
ing, and  put  the  usual  question  to  one  of  them, 
"  Your  name  and  college,  Sir,  please."  "  The  Duke 
of "  "  I  beg  your  Grace's  pardon,"  interrupt- 
ing him,  "  good  nis;ht."  This  was  told  me  in  the 
presence  of  the  Duke's  companion,  and  he  confirmed 
it.  It  is  just  one  of  these  things  which  a  servile 
man  might  do  in  any  country,  and  which  tells  noth- 
ing of  the  University  one  way  or  the  other.  I  am 
inclined  to  think  that  the  proctor  recognized  the 
Duke  when  he  heard  his  name,  and  let  him  off  as 
he  might  any  young  man  he  knew  personally  to  be 
of  regular  habits.  The  tradesmen,  of  course,  pay 
intense  court,  and  show  intense  favor  to  the  nobil- 
ity. I  got  out  from  the  train  once  at  Cambridge, 
in  company  with  a  young  nobleman,  carrying  our 
bags,  if  I  remember  rightly.  At  the  door  of  the 
station  is  always  a  great  concourse  of  omnibuses 
and  flies,  as  hackney  carriages  are  called  in  the 
country.  Ordinarily  the  drivers  are  content  with 
standing  and  calling,  "  Fly,  Sir,"  "  This  way,  Sir," 
"Trinity  College,"  "Lion  Hotel,"  "St.  John's 
College,"  etc.,  etc.  On  this  occasion,  however, 
the  rush  to  secure  the  nobleman  was  terrific,  — 


LECTURE   X.  311 

significant    whispers    round    among   the    flymen, 

"It's  Lord  II ,   Lord  H ,"  for  his  face 

was  well  known.  "  This  way,  my  Lord,  here  my 
Lord,  does  your  Lordship  want  a  fly?"  etc.,  etc. 
It  is  a  good  thing,  by  the  way,  for  Americans  trav- 
elling in  England  to  remember  that  a  gentleman, 
after  the  first  introduction,  never  says  "My  Lord," 
or  "  Your  Lordship,"  or  indeed  "  Sir,"  except  to 
a  person  of  royal  blood.  But  the  servants  and 
tradesmen  "My  Lord"  the  unfortunate  noblemen 
all  the  time ;  they  overwhelm  them  with  atten- 
tions, and  make  them  pay  most  awful  prices.  I 
remember  once  dining  with  a  young  nobleman  of 
high  rank  at  a  restaurant,  and  he  asked  my  per- 
mission to  order  the  dinner  in  my  name,  <is  the 
announcement  of  his  own  rank  would  have  sub- 
jected him  to  the  greatest  annoyance  under  the 
name  of  attentions. 

I  do  not  think,  therefore,  that  any  gentleman 
need  fear  competition  with  the  proudest  peer  of 
England  at  the  University.  In  particular,  an 
American  is  with  Englishmen  so  much  more  of  a 
lion  than  any  countryman  that  he  need  never  fear 
that  he  will  be  in  obscurity. 

But  it'  in  society  the  great  man  docs  not  lord  it 
over  the  average  man,  he  docs  in  respect  to  studv. 
The  system  1  was  at  such  pains  to  explain,  dis- 
pensing with  a  fixed  course,  with  daily  recitations, 
with  a  current  scale  of  rank,  depending  for  instruc- 
tion   entirely  on   private    tuition,  and    for   stimulus 


312  ON  THE   CAM. 

on  examinations  at  long  intervals,  is  admirably 
calculated  to  make  a  select  body  of  distinguished 
scholars,  but  is  not  nearly  as  well  adapted  for 
the  cultivation  of  average  intellects.  In  the  first 
place,  the  examinations  are  made  of  exceeding  dif- 
ficulty, difficult  even  for  the  very  best.  In  the 
mathematics,  for  instance,  are  certain  papers  of 
questions  called  problems,  which  are  not  at  all 
what  we  mean  by  problems,  but  are  new  develop- 
ments of  the  principles  contained  in  the  books 
already,  and  may  require  for  their  solution  eight 
or  ten  different  branches  of  mathematics  all  at 
once.  To  do  one  third  of  the  problems  in  the  last 
papers  of  an  examination  is  a  very  rare  achieve- 
ment, and  to  do  a  single  one  correctly  will  often 
put  a  candidate  many  places  higher  than  he  would 
have  been  without  it. 

It  is  plain  that  these  papers  are  exceedingly  dis- 
couraging to  inferior  minds.  Then  the  stimulus, 
though  very  intense  for  the  superior  scholars,  is 
very  small  for  a  man  of  moderate  powers ;  what 
he  wants  is  a  constant  stimulus,  a  daily  stimulus, 
little  successes  day  by  day,  a  good  recitation  here, 
a  neat  exercise  there,  to  keep  him  along  and  mark 
his  improvement ;  he  cannot  bring  himself  to  the 
lofty  point  of  resolution  which  will  work  unflinch- 
ingly for  a  prize  three  years  off. 

Then  the  system  of  instruction,  giving  an  hour 
at  a  time  to  each  individual  pupil,  manifestly  comes 
hard  on  the  inferiors,  who  want  the  excitement  and 


LECTURE   X.  313 

assistance  of  ten  or  a  dozen  in  the  same  predica- 
ment, and  who  cannot  do  enough,  nor  do  it  well 
enough,  to  make  it  worth  while  for  a  distinguished 
teacher  to  be  spending  his  time  on  them,  when 
he  might  be  giving  it  to  a  first-rate  scholar.  The 
rewards  and  incentives  are  not  for  them.  At  the 
largest  and  richest  college  there  are  about  thirteen 
scholarships,  and  four  fellowships  in  every  year, 
manifestly  unattainable  by  the  good  young  man 
of  faithfulness,  but  of  no  great  ability,  who  ex- 
pects to  be  about  twentieth  with  hard  work.  No- 
body encourages  him,  nobody  helps  him,  nobody 
instructs  him,  nobody  talks  about  him.  He  must 
get  his  lessons  alone,  with  no  friend  among  the 
authorities  to  explain  his  little  difficulties,  to  go 
over  his  little  points,  to  answer  his  little  questions, 
—  things  insignificant  in  themselves,  doubtless,  but 
very  great  and  real  to  him.  They  are  all  occu- 
pied with  the  wranglers,  and  the  first  class  in  class- 
ics, and  the  University  scholars,  and  the  Senior 
medallist.  Yet  he  wants  to  learn,  he  loves  to 
study,  he  delights  to  cheer  his  parents  with  a  lit- 
tle success  at  college  ;  but  all  he  can  do  in  the 
headlong,  furious  competition  is  just  to  fail  of  the 
second  class  in  the  college  examination  ;  and  as  he 
rather  looked  forward  to  a  first,  a  friend  sees  him 
and  savs,  kt  I  tell  you  what,  .Jones,  a  man  as  strong 
as  you  ought  to  row,  he  ought  n't  to  undertake  to 
read.  '  In  this  way,  many  a  young  man  has  abso- 
lutely been  driven  to  make  boating  or  cricketing 
u 


314  ON   THE   CAM. 

his  regular  occupation,  because  there  he  can  excel, 
and  consequently  will  find  attention  and  encour- 
agement, while  in  the  studies  that  he  is  perfectly 
willing  to  pursue,  everybody  is  concerned  with  the 
great  men  whom  he  has  neither  the  power  nor  the 
wish  to  emulate,  and  who  are  entirely  able  to  take 
care  of  themselves,  and  nobody  is  ready  to  take 
daily  care  of  him,  which  might  make  a  much  better 
scholar  of  him,  poor  as  he  is. 

And  this  is  true,  not  only  in  the  means,  but  in 
the  objects  of  study.  The  concentration  of  the 
interest  at  Cambridge  on  a  few  branches  only,  and 
even  when  these  are  counted  as  many  as  possible, 
the  pains  taken  to  secure  proficients  in  each  by  it- 
self, is  wholly  inimical  to  bestowing  general  infor- 
mation. It  is  not  true  that  there  is  no  provision 
for  any  but  a  few  old-world  studies.  There  are 
professors  in  almost  every  department  of  knowl- 
edge, except  the  modern  languages  and,  curiously 
enough,  Latin.  And  there  is  an  examination  not 
only  in  Classics  and  Mathematics,  but  in  Natural 
Science,  in  Moral  Science,  including  History  and 
Political  Philosophy,  in  Law,  and  in  Theology. 
But  whoever  studies  any  of  those  is  expected  to 
devote  himself  to  it  altogether.  The  double  men, 
as  they  are  called,  men,  that  is,  who  enter  the 
competition  in  two  or  more  departments,  are  get- 
ting fewer  and  fewer  every  year,  and  are  always 
discouraged  from  attempting  so  much  by  their 
guardians  and  instructors. 


LECTURE  X.  315 

The  defence  of  this  system  is  obvious.  It  is 
said  they  want  to  make  fine  scholars  in  each 
branch,  not  superficial  jaeks-of-all-trades.  Very 
well  ;  but  how  if  a  man  cannot  be  a  first-rate 
scholar  in  any  one  branch  ?  How  if  his  mind  is 
essentially  superficial  and  mediocre  ?  Which  is 
better,  that  in  the  vain  struggle  to  be  first  or 
second  in  one  subject,  he  should  end  by  being 
thirtieth,  or  that  he  should  be  encouraged  to  take 
a  good  position  in  several  subjects,  and  make  up  in 
width  what  he  wants  in  depth  ?  How  is  it  in  life  ? 
One  great  divine  confines  himself  to  the  criticism 
of  the  Scriptures,  —  another  is  the  first  of  pulpit 
orators,  —  and  a  third  lives  in  the  love  of  thou- 
sands, and  dies  in  the  odor  of  sanctity  from  his 
marvellous  gifts  as  a  parish  pastor,  without  either 
depth  of  knowledge  or  power  of  oratory.  But  the 
ordinary,  the  average  minister  of  the  Gospel,  is 
content  with  what  his  powers  allow  him  ;  he  can 
solve  the  ordinary  difficulties  of  the  Bible,  without 
attacking  its  higher  problems,  he  can  preach  an 
interesting,  not  an  amazing  sermon,  and  he  can  be 
loved  by  his  parishioners  without  being  idolized. 
It  is  the  same  in  law  and  in  medicine.  The  great 
lights  elaborate  a  single  specialty,  —  the  average 
men  know  a  little  of  everything,  because  they  can- 
not know  more  than  a  little  of  anything.  There- 
fore I  think  the  plan  pursued  at  our  colleges  of 
giving  the  inferior  minds  a  chance  to  gain  all  the 
knowledge   they  can,  be  it  wide  and  superficial,  or 


316  ON   THE   CAM. 

narrow  and  deep,  is  well,  —  and  I  am  conscious 
that  many  a  young  man  in  England  feels  the  want 
of  a  general  course,  where  his  attention  shall  be 
attracted  to  as  much  as  he  ca7i  master  of  all  valua- 
ble branches  at  once,  without  being  forced  to  make 
a  selection  of  some  one,  for  which,  perhaps,  he 
cares  no  more  than  for  any  other,  and  strain  his 
mind  in  the  vain  effort  to  reach  an  impossible 
elevation. 

There  are  other  faults  at  an  English  University, 
which  you  would  come  across  every  day  if  you 
lived  there,  but  which  it  is  rather  difficult  to  de- 
scribe to  a  foreign  audience  ;  but  I  believe  these 
three  are  the  main  ones.  First,  the  want  of  liber- 
ty, or  rather  independence,  everything  being  beset 
with  a  series  of  immemorial  customs  and  vested 
rights,  often  of  indefensible  extortions  ;  second,  the 
great  expense,  which,  though  not  heeded  by  the 
richer,  and  not  encountered  by  the  poorer  stu- 
dents, comes  very  hard  on  the  average,  or  rather 
on  their  parents  ;  and  third,  the  constant  prefer- 
ence shown  to  those  of  superior  ability,  to  such  an 
extent  as  to  prevent  those  of  more  moderate  intel- 
lect from  gaining  that  superficial  but  wide  stock  of 
information,  which  is  all  they  can  master  and  all 
they  will  need.  Let  us  devote  a  few  minutes  to 
the  consideration  of  how  these  faults  are  accounted 
for  and  whence  they  originate. 

The  first,  the  supremacy  of  custom,  is  a  nat- 
ural result  from  the  constitution  of  the  place.     The 


LECTURE   X.  317 

English  Universities  are  shut  up,  —  isolated,  — 
their  members  do  not  mix  much  with  the  world ; 
—  in  their  long  vacations  they  lay  aside  their 
University  completely,  —  in  their  term  time  they 
equally  forget  all  that  is  outside.  Hence  they  run 
naturally  into  the  same  rut, — they  have  no  outer 
influences  to  suggest  new  ways.  Each  new  set 
on  entering  is  completely  swallowed  up  by  the 
much  greater  number  it  finds  there,  and  in  the 
case  of  a  University  six  hundred  years  old,  every- 
thing gets  as  solid  and  unchanged  as  the  pvramids. 
The  various  servants,  fees,  etc.,  originally  ap- 
pointed, it  is  likely,  for  some  specific  occasion  at 
some  peculiar  epoch,  became  rooted  and  could  not 
be  pulled  up.  I  do  not  think  they  would  deny 
this  themselves.  How  it  all  began  they  cannot 
tell,  —  it  was  before  their  memory,  —  they  found 
it  so,  —  and   whatever  is,   is  right. 

The  second  and  third  faults  I  think  are  to  be 
attributed  to  the  state  of  England.  England  is  a 
rich  countrv,  an  expensive  country,  and  an  over- 
stocked country.  The  poorer  classes  are  very 
poor,  and  they  have  no  wry  great  ambition  to 
rise  above  their  poverty  ;  millions  live  contented 
from  year  to  year  in  a  state;  that  no  American 
will  voluntarily  submit  to.  Hut  this  state  once 
past  there  is  a  tendency  growing  rapidly  to  live 
in  great  comfort,  and  have  everything  of  the  best. 
This  may  be  seen  in  the  countrv.  There  are 
there  no   small    compact  gentlemen's  houses  of  a 


318  ON   THE  CAM. 

dozen  rooms  and  an  acre  and  a  half  of  ground 
about  them,  surrounded  by  a  dozen  more,  inhabited 
by  his  tradesmen,  of  much  the  same  size  and  ap- 
pointments. There  are  palaces  and  hovels.  It  is 
only  when  some  truly  wise  proprietor  forces  his 
tenant  laborers  into  better  houses,  or  in  the  great 
manufacturing  towns,  where  the  liberating  influ- 
ences  of  commerce  and  manufactures  are  forcing 
a  juster  style  of  living  on  the  people,  that  you  see 
a  mode  of  life  that  is  neither  poverty  nor  luxury, 
but  true  decency.  But  England  genei'ally  is  a 
very  expensive  country,  and  the  Universities, 
being  frequented  by  those  brought  up  in  the 
most  expensive  tastes,  and  with  the  means  to 
gratify  them,  carry  the  national  peculiarity  to 
exaggeration.  Cambridge  onlv  represents  Eng- 
land  in  giving  you  the  power  of  scraping  or  the 
power  of  spending,  but  not  the  power  of  econ- 
omizing. 

And  so  with  the  third  fault,  the  difficulties  in 
the  way  of  the  average  man.  England  is  not  a 
country  for  average  men  ;  every  profession  is  over- 
stocked, and  the  only  chance  is  for  the  man  of 
superior  agility  and  address  to  climb  to  a  lofty  posi- 
tion over  the  heads  of  a  hundred  others.  They 
do  need  a  race  of  scholars  and  specialists.  There 
is  a  place  in  such  a  large  and  crowded  popula- 
tion for  leaders  in  every  department,  be  it  the 
study  of  the  Greek  propositions  or  the  develop- 
ment of  the  lemniscate  curve.     But  they  do  not 


LECTUEE  X.  019 

want  any  man  of  average  intellect,  who  knows  a 
little  of  everything.  There  is  no  call,  as  there  is 
in  our  western  country,  for  a  man  to  go  out  pre- 
pared to  be  a  lawyer,  a  lecturer,  a  member  of 
congress,  a  president  of  an  insurance  company, 
and  a  deacon  all  at  once.  In  every  one  of 
these  departments  they  can  find  twenty  who  have 
made  it  and  it  alone  their  specialty,  and  therefore 
they  will,  as  each  new  need  occurs,  fill  it  up  in  the 
best  manner.  If  Cambridge,  therefore,  Avere  to 
seek  to  educate  the  average  man  instead  of  the 
extraordinary  man,  if,  instead  of  giving  all  her 
attention  to  a  senior  classic  who  can't  solve  a 
simple  equation,  and  a  third  wrangler  who  doesn't 
know  the  veins  from  the  arteries,  she  drew  up  a 
careful  course  of  study,  wherein  every  student 
should  in  one  week  recite  in  Greek,  Latin,  mathe- 
matics, chemistry,  rhetoric  and  French,  she  would 
simply  be  producing  what  there  is  no  demand  for, 
and  neglecting  what  is  loudly  called  for  every  day. 

Therefore  I  think  we  bring  it  to  this,  that  Cam- 
bridge, although  her  system  of  instruction  and  her 
daily  life  are  peculiar,  still  cannot  resist  the  natural 
influences  of  the  country  in  which  she  is  placed. 
English  of  the  English,  her  students,  when  they 
enter,  are  as  much  Britons  as  ever,  and  three,  five, 
ten  years  constant  associating  with  their  country- 
men cannot  make  them  less  so.  All  the  water 
that  is  in  Cain  cannot  wash  their  English  blond 
out  of  their  body. 

Nor  should  we  wish  it  otherwise,  lor  a  great  in- 


320  ON   THE   CAM. 

stitution  like  Cambridge  is  bound  to  consider  the 
education  of  the  people  as. its  first  duty.  If  the 
scholars  and  philosophers  of  Cambridge  were  ever 
so  brilliant  and  so  accurate  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  and  yet  failed  to  prepare  a  set  of  men  fit 
to  take  their  part  in  the  daily  work  of  England, 
they  would  soon  cease  to  be  intrusted  with  the 
care  of  young  Englishmen,  and  so  go  to  decay. 
It  is  thus  that  the  great  Universities  of  Italy  and 
Spain  decayed,  because,  with  all  the  instruction 
they  gave  in  all  branches  of  learning,  their  mem- 
bers shut  themselves  up  from  the  world,  their 
country.  They  thought  of  medicine,  not  of  Italy; 
of  theology,  not  of  Spain.  But  the  opposite  of 
this,  the  feeling  of  each  and  all  that  in  their  aca- 
demic retirement  they  belonged  to  their  country, 
—  this  it  is  which,  on  the  contrary,  makes  the  Ger- 
man Universities  the  rallying  grounds  of  liberal 
principles  in  that  tyrant-ridden  country  ;  it  is  this 
that  makes  Cambridge  and  Oxford  the  home  of 
generous,  brave,  truthful  Englishmen ;  this  that 
sent  the  sons  of  Harvard  to  plead  and  die  for  the 
Union. 

I  propose,  therefore,  to  devote  the  remaining 
lectures  to  a  consideration  of  the  relations  of  Cam- 
bridge to  England,  and  some  questions  arising 
from  them.  There  are  two  aspects  in  which  Eng- 
land may  be  regarded, — its  Church  and  its  State  ; 
and  as  the  Universities  are  most  intimately  con- 
nected with  the  Church,  I  propose  to  make  that 
connection  the  subject  of  my  next  lecture. 


XI. 

RELATIONS    OF    CAMBRIDGE    TO    TIIE   ENGLISH 
CHURCH. 

Ecclesiastical  Character  of  the  Colleges.  —  Attendance 
on  Chapel  axd  other  Religious  Duties.  —  Act  of  1G62. — 
Theological  Examination  and  other  Requisites  iou  Or- 
dination.—  Parties  in  the  Church.  —  Oxford  the  Seat 
of  Extremists,  Cambridge  of  Broad-Church  Divines. 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen:  — 

I  enter  this  evening  upon  one  of  the  most  diffi- 
cult and  important  branches  of  my  subject ;  impor- 
tant, because  the  connection  of  the  Universities 
with  the  Church  of  England  is  intimate  and  pecu- 
liar to  a  degree  that  our  theocratic  fathers  might 
have  conceived,  that  Jonathan  Edwards  might  have 
appreciated,  but  which  we  can  scarcely  realize  ;  and 
difficult,  because  the  candid  consideration  of  any 
question  where  religious  or  ecclesiastical  questions 
are  involved,  never  can  be  of  that  entirely  indiffer- 
ent and  open  nature  to  all  persons,  that  is  the  mere 
description  of  life  and  studies  and  history.  I  wish, 
therefore,  in  this  present  lecture  particularly,  not 
to  be  misunderstood.  My  feelings,  personally,  to 
the  Church  of  England  and  its  ministers,  are  of 
an    entirely    friendly    and    respectful    nature.        I 

might  say,  as  Erancis  Iligginson  did,  that  I  am  no 
11-  i: 


322  ON   THE   CAM. 

separatist  from  her.  Going  to  a  University  where 
her  influence  was  more  deep-rooted  and  more 
widespread  than  anywhere  in  the  world,  except 
at  the  sister  University  of  Oxford; — going  there 
with  views,  avowedly  as  far  removed  from  the 
Church's  Articles  as  a  Christian's  views  can  he, 
I  was  uniformly  treated,  in  my  constant  associa- 
tion with  actual  or  expectant  divines  of  her  com- 
munion, with  courtesy,  with  liberality,  with  kind- 
ness. She  appeared  to  me  in  the  light  of  a  truly 
Catholic  Church.  She  accepted  as  a  test  of  fitness 
to  her  communion  merely  that  a  man  should  pro- 
fess and  call  himself  a  Christian,  and  on  one  occa- 
sion, when  I  was  absolutely  brought  into  collision 
with  a  religious  requirement,  and  stood  out  against 
it,  the  consideration  of  all  concerned  was  truly 
affecting.  In  all  I  may  say  to-night,  therefore, 
I  desire  to  deprecate  in  advance  any  thought  of 
disrespect  or  unkindness.  Whatever  I  have  to 
reprehend  in  the  ecclesiastical  associations  of 
Cambridge,  I  do,  because  I  believe  it  to  be  alien 
from  the  true  spirit  of  the  Church  that  her  Rid- 
ley died  to  found,  and  her  Tillotson  in  vain  strove 
to  purify. 

There  is,  I  think,  a  pretty  general  belief  that 
the  principal  colleges  at  Oxford  and  Cambridge 
were  founded  on  the  basis  of  religious  houses. 
This  is  hardly  correct.  On  the  contrary,  as  I 
stated  in  my  second  lecture,  they  were  founded  to 
give  literary  men  a  snug   harbor  without  enter- 


LECTURE   XL  323 

ing  a  convent.  But  in  their  institution  a  good 
deal  was  borrowed  from  the  monastic  forms.  This 
is  shown,  first,  in  the  dress.  The  long-sleeved 
gown,  of  a  different  cut  from  that  of  the  burgher 
or  the  nobleman,  and  entirely  beyond  the  tunic  of 
the  peasant ;  the  round,  close-fitting  cap,  covering 
the  part  bared  by  the  tonsure  ;  the  hood  of  fur  or 
silk,  hanging  down  the  back  like  a  cowl,  and  per- 
haps at  first  drawn  over  the  head,  —  all  these,  in 
their  form,  speak  of  a  clerical  or  monastic  origin. 
But  the  resemblance  which  is  merely  in  the  out- 
ward show  is  nothing  to  the  evidently  monastic 
character  of  the  corporations  themselves.  The 
fellows  of  the  colleges  are,  according  to  the  old 
constitutions,  only  another  kind  of  monks.  They 
are  interdicted  from  marrying  ;  and  they  are 
obliged,  after  holding  their  fellowships  for  a  cer- 
tain length  of  time,  to  forfeit  them,  unless  they 
take  priest's  orders  in  the  Church  of  England.  It 
was  thus  clearly  the  design  of  the  founders  of  the 
colleges  to  afford  a  regular  increase  of  the  celibate 
clergy.  And  the  very  character  of  the  colleges 
is  like  a  monastery.  They  have  their  own  chapel, 
and  hall  for  dining  ;  their  own  treasurer,  steward, 
chaplains,  and  officers  of  every  kind  ;  the  whole 
organization  being  clearly  borrowed  from  that  of  a 
convent,  and  recurring  in  their  cloisters,  gardens, 
butteries  and  kitchens,  etc.  This  whole  matter  of 
the  students  gathering  into  select  bodies,  governed 
bv  ecclesiastics  formerly  of  their  own  number,  and 


324  ON   THE  CAM. 

having  regular  hours,  studies,  and  systems  of  dis- 
cipline, is  not  found  in  Universities  established  in 
Europe  since  the  monastic  times,  and  has  existed, 
more  or  less,  in  our  colleges,  because  the  first  of 
them  were  founded  by  members  of  the  English 
Universities  at  the  time  when  the  monastic  institu- 
tions had  scarcely  become  extinct. 

We  start,  then,  with  an  essentially  ecclesiastical 
constitution  of  the  colleges,  the  governing  body, 
fellows  and  masters,  being  all  priests  of  the  Church 
of  England.*  Let  us  now  see  how  far  there  is  a 
constant  religious  or  ecclesiastical  influence  brought 
to  bear  on  the  undergraduates  and  Bachelors  of 
Arts. 

I  cannot  find  that  any  subscription  of  the  arti- 
cles of  the  Church  of  England  was  ever  required 
on  entrance  into  the  University  of  Cambridge.  It 
was  at  Oxford,  as  is  well  known  to  us  by  various 
jokes.  That  requirement,  however,  has  been  re- 
cently repealed  there  as  well.  Any  person,  what- 
ever his  religious  views,  is  free  to  enter.  Once 
entered,  the  first  question  will  be  as  to  attending 
chapel.  The  frequency  and  length  of  the  chapel 
services  will  vary  at  different  colleges.  At  Trinity, 
there  are  three  services  on  Sunday,  and  two  every 
week-day,  making  fifteen  in  all.  Of  these,  every 
undergraduate    is    nominally   required   to    attend 

*  In  some  colleges,  chiefly  those  where  medicine  or  the  civil 
law  are  studied,  the  masters  need  not  be  clergymen ;  e.  g.  Caius 
and  Trinity  Hall. 


LECTURE    XI.  325 

eight ;  that  is,  a  little  more  than  half,  of  which  two 
must  he  on  Sunday ;  but  this  eight  really  means 
six,  and,  to  all  above  the  rank  of  freshman,  five. 
Many  keep,  as  it  is  called,  four  and  five  in  alter- 
nate weeks,  getting  a  reprimand  for  four ;  then 
five  the  next  week,  to  avoid  a  second  censure  ; 
then  four  again,  and  so  on.  The  service  is,  of 
course,  that  of  the  Church  of  England.  Every 
day,  Morning  and  Evening  Prayer ;  Sundays, 
Wednesdays,  and  Fridays,  the  Litany,  in  addi- 
tion ;  on  Sundays  and  Saints'  Days,  the  Ante- 
Communion  service  ;  and  on  Sundays  only,  a  ser- 
mon. At  some  colleges,  the  service  of  Morning 
Prayer  is  omitted  on  the  Litany  days.  The  re- 
quirement to  attend  these  services  extends  to  all 
students,  whatever  their  religious  views  may  be. 
Everybody  in  England  is  supposed  to  belong  to 
the  Church  of  England.  By  the  present  laws  a 
dissenter  is  allowed  to  worship  elsewhere,  if  he 
will  ;  but  he  cannot  be  excused  from  attendance 
at  the  required  services  if  he  comes  to  college.  In 
my  time,  considerable  excitement  was  caused  by 
the  son  of  a  rich  Jewish  banker,  who  came  to 
Trinity,  and  sought  to  be  excused  from  attending 
chapel;  but  it  was  peremptorily  insisted  on.  He 
ascertained,  however,  that  at  Christ's  College  they 
were  not  so  strict  ;  and  threatened  to  migrate. 
Whereat  he  was  allowed  to  stay  in  Trinity,  and 
the  obnoxious  requirement  relaxed.  But  no  Chris- 
tian  dissenter,   Protestant   or  Catholic,  can  be  ex- 


326  ON   THE   CAM. 

empted.  Also,  you  will  observe  that  there  is  no 
distinction  made  between  college  chapel  services 
and  church  on  Sunday.  And  as  the  services  are 
exactly  the  same,  there  is  no  reason  why  there 
should  be.  If  any  one  prefers  to  hear  the  sermons 
in  one  of  the  parish  churches,  he  can  ;  but  he  must 
do  it  so  as  to  be  present  also  at  all  required  services 
in  the  college  chapel.  Generally,  no  one  would 
prefer  it :  the  preaching  in  those  of  the  college 
chapels  where  there  is  preaching,  is  generally  far 
superior  to  any  in  the  town. 

The  one  required  service  from  which  nobody 
can  exempt  themselves  is  in  Trinity,  and  I  be- 
lieve in  several  other  colleges,  that  on  Sunday 
evening,  and  on  this  occasion  the  chapel  is 
crammed  full ;  the  five  hundred  and  odd  under- 
graduates, and  sixty  or  seventy  graduates,  being 
swelled  by  a  crowd  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the 
vicinity,  who  have  secured  admission  to  hear  the 
splendid  choral  service,  which  is,  I  own,  very 
well-performed  and  interesting. 

This  attendance  of  five  or  six  chapels  a  week 
is  all  an  undergraduate  will  hear  on  the  subject  in 
the  first  year  or  two  of  his  college  course.  But 
let  us  suppose  he  is  intelligent  or  fortunate  enough 
to  get  a  foundation  scholarship.  In  this  case  he 
will  be  required  to  do  in  Trinity  what  he  would 
at  any  rate  in  some  other  colleges,  scholar  or  not, 
namely,  to  read  the  chapters,  or  lessons  as  they 
are  called,  from  the  Bible,  in  the  chapel  services. 


LECTURE   XI.  327 

Two  scholars  are  detailed  for  tins  purpose  every 
week,  who  are  required  either  to  read  themselves, 
or  get  substitutes.  They  will  take  their  places  at 
the  end  of  the  scholars'  seats,  close  to  a  reading- 
desk,  corresponding  to  the  one  where  the  chaplain 
conducts  the  rest  of  the  service.  They  are  re- 
quired, when  delegated  to  read  the  lessons,  to  wear 
surplices,  though  everybody  else  but  the  chaplain 
wears  the  ordinary  gown.  In  general  the  scholars 
are  interested  in  the  lessons,  and  do  not  avoid  the 
work,  except  that  it  is  sometimes  very  disagreea- 
ble to  turn  out  to  read  at  morning  chapel,  when 
vou  would  n't  be  otherwise  obliged  to  go.  I 
ought,  by  the  way,  to  have  made  it  more  clear 
before,  that  morning  chapel  is  at  seven  all  the  year 
round,  and  evening  at  six.  On  Sundays,  morning 
service  at  eight  and  eleven,  evening  at  six  and  a 
quarter,  which  is  also  the  hour  for  evening  chapel 
on  Saturdays,  Saints'  Days  and  their  eves.  This 
applies  to  Trinity,  but  nearly  every  college  has 
its  own  hours  for  chapel,  and  by  good  manage- 
ment one  can  go  to  six  or  seven  different  services 
on  Sundav,  if  he  wish.  But  to  return  to  the 
requirements  on  the  scholars.  They  are  obliged 
to  keep  six  chapels  every  week,  on  pain  of  losing 
their  week  as  it  is  called,  and  so  the  term,  —  an 
operation  explained  in  my  sixth  lecture,  —  and 
if  they  can  bring  themselves  to  eight  services  a 
week,  they  are  rewarded  in  a  peculiar  way  by 
having   no   chame   made   in   that   week    for    their 


828  ON   THE   CAM. 

dinner  in  hall,  —  which  reminds  one  of  the  lifc- 
tle  boy  in  "  Jane  Eyre  "  that  received  two  ginger 
nuts  for  his  piety,  and  makes  every  chapel  worth 
a  little  less  than  two  shillings  to  them. 

But  this  is  not  all.  The  two  scholars  who  read 
the  lessons  of  the  Bible  every  week  have  another 
duty  to  perform  ;  namely,  to  read  the  Latin  grace 
after  meat  for  the  fellows'  table.  Long  after  the 
scholars  themselves  have  finished  their  dinner 
and  gone  out ;  long  after  the  undergraduates 
have  equally  concluded,  and  about  as  soon  as  the 
Bachelors  of  Arts  have  ended,  the  steady  gorging 
which  has  been  kept  up  at  the  high  table  for 
three-quarters  of  an  hour,  comes  to  an  end.  The 
fellows  at  last  are  ready  to  retire  to  what  is  called 
the  combination  room.  This  is  a  handsome  room, 
where  all  meetings  of  the  fellows  are  held,  as  well 
those  for  fruit  and  wine  after  dinner,  as  for  inflict- 
ing punishment  and  praise  on  their  subjects.  The 
old,  white-headed  porter,  looking  through  the  door, 
sees  the  equally  white-headed  waiter  raise  his  hand 
from  the  vicinity  of  the  table,  with  a  paper  in  it. 
He  signals  accordingly  to  the  two  scholars,  who 
have  all  this  time  been  kept  from  their  wine  par- 
ties, their  newspapers,  their  everything.  They 
walk  in,  and  the  fellows  rise.  The  waiter  hands 
to  one  scholar  the  paper  he  used  to  signal  with, 
which  contains  the  Latin  Grace  printed.  It  is 
truly  a  portentous  document.  The  first  scholar, 
or  primo  basso,  reads  the  ascription  to  the  Trinity ; 


LECTUKE   XL  329 

then  eight  sentences  of  general  praise  and  thanks- 
giving are  read  by  the  two  alternately,  and  the 
primo  basso  ends  with  three  long  prayers,  one  of 
thanks  for  the  dinner  he  has  not  eaten,  one  of 
thanks  for  the  founders  of  the  college,  which,  I 
presume,  was  originally  a  prayer  for  their  souls, 
and  one  for  the  Queen,  Royal  family,  and  whole 
Church  ;  and  then  the  scholars  quit  the  hall  as  fast 
as  possible.  This  duty,  coming  in  just  as  every- 
body wants  to  be  about  their  own  business,  is  ex- 
cessively tedious,  and  is  shirked  in  every  possible 
way.  In  the  long  vacation,  the  two  scholars  never 
are  both  present,  it  being  justly  thought  a  pamper- 
ing of  the  fellows  to  treat  them  to  a  responsive 
grace  in  vacation  ;  and  not  unfrequently  both  are 
absent.  In  this  case,  the  porter  at  the  door  replies 
to  the  waiter's  signal  by  a  shake  of  the  head.  The 
absence  of  scholars  is  communicated  to  the  presid- 
ing fellow,  who  rises  and  returns  thanks,  literally  in 
two  words,  —  "  Benedicto  Benedicatur"  —  as  a 
substitute  for  the  long  grace  of  ordinary  days. 

Repeated  negligence  to  read  grace  on  the  part 
of  the  delegated  scholars  is  punished  by  discom- 
monsing,  or  depriving  the  undergraduate  of  all 
supplies  of  food  and  drink  from  the  college,  till  re- 
pentance or  softening  on  either  side.  I  believe 
technically  any  tradesman  in  the  town  supplying 
him  with  food  might  be  severely  punched  also, 
but   the   expense    would   be    quite   enough. 

We   have  now    followed   our  undergraduate  till 


330  ON   THE  CAM. 

he  takes  his  Bachelor's  degree.  This  formerly- 
involved  signing  the  oaths  of  allegiance  and  su- 
premacy, that  is,  renouncing  all  authority  over  the 
English  Church  of  any  but  the  Queen,  and  a 
declaration  that  the  candidate  for  B.  A.  was  a 
bona  fide  member  of  that  Church.  This  of 
course  prevented  all  foreigners  and  dissenters 
from  taking  a  degree,  though  they  might  pass 
the  examination.  Mr.  Sylvester,  recently  elected 
to  the  French  Institute,  Instructor  in  Mathe- 
matics at  the  Royal  Military  Academy  of  Wool- 
wich, and  formerly  in  the  University  of  Vir- 
ginia, at  Charlottesville,  universally  acknowledged 
one  of  the  first  mathematicians  in  the  world,  was 
second  wrangler  in  1837,  but  could  not  take  his 
degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts  because  he  was  a  Jew. 
But  in  the  year  1858,  I  think,  this  requirement 
was  removed,  and  now  the  bachelor's  degree  may 
be  taken  at  either  University  without  subscription 
or  oath. 

Our  undergraduate,  then,  has  taken  his  degree, 
and  is  a  Bachelor  of  Arts.  What  are  his  relations 
to  the  Church,  and  to  religious  exercises  ?  Ordina- 
rily speaking,  although  he  is  by  no  means  wholly  a 
freeman,  although  for  the  next  three  years  the  Uni- 
versity exercises  certain  restraints  upon  him,  yet 
they  are  not  of  a  religious  character.  If,  however, 
he  is  a  scholar,  —  for  the  scholarships  are  held  till 
the  master's  degree  is  taken,  —  he  has  still  some 
concern  with  them.      He  has  now  to  read  the  les- 


LECTURE   XI.  331 

sons  in  chapel  on  Saturday  evening,  and  on  Sun- 
day. This  he  does,  not  by  regular  rotation,  but 
purely  by  accident.  The  bachelor  scholar,  who  at 
these  services  happens  to  occupy  the  end  seat,  goes 
up  and  reads.  In  connection  with  this,  I  was 
once  placed  in  an  awkward  position.  The  large 
Bible  is  always  open  on  the  reading-desk,  and 
plenty  of  small  hand  Bibles  are  scattered  about  the 
seats.  I  was  too  near-sighted  to  distinguish  the 
letters  in  the  great  Bible,  without  bending  down 
in  a  painful  way,  so  generally  used  to  take  up  a 
little  one  from  the  seat.  On  one  occasion,  I  found 
myself  elected  by  chance  to  read,  and  all  the 
little  Bibles  had  got  carried  off.  It  was  rather 
awkward,  as  no  other  scholar  was  sitting  near  to 
take  my  place.  The  chapter  was  the  familiar  one 
2  Cor.  iv.  I  went  up,  got  one  or  two  glimpses  at 
the  big  Bible,  and  repeated  the  rest  of  the  chapter 
from  memory,  —  rather  a  dangerous  experiment. 

The  bachelor  scholar  naturally  competes  for  a 
fellowship.  lie  may  be  a  successful  candidate  for 
this,  and  there  is  nothing  in  the  college  statutes 
requiring  him  to  sign  anything  in  the  way  of  a  re- 
ligious test,  —  nor  is  there  in  the  rules  of  the  Uni- 
versity. But  here  come  in  the  acts  of  Parliament, 
the  old  acts  of  uniformity,  and  the  fust  collision  of 
freedom  of  thought  and  the  requirements  of  the 
Church. 

When  the  rule  was  rescinded,  obliging  Bache- 
lors of  Arts  to  declare  themselves  members  of  the 


332  ON   THE   CAM. 

Church,  the  question  came,  what  shall  be  the  posi- 
tion of  the  Masters  of  Arts  ?  The  Masters  of  Arts 
have  the  government  of  the  University,  —  they 
choose  the  Vice-Chancellor,  Professors,  Proctors, 
and  all  other  University  officers,  and  the  members 
of  Parliament  who  represent  the  University. 
They  have  two  bodies,  a  Council  and  a  Senate, 
wherein  their  affairs  are  decided,  and  a  number  of 
committees,  called  syndicates,  on  the  library,  muse- 
ums, branches  of  study,  etc.  The  moment  a  man 
is  a  Master  of  Arts,  and  entitled  to  wear  the  full- 
sleeved  black  gown  and  tall  hat,  he  is  exempted 
from  all  restraints  whatsoever,  can  appear  with  or 
without  his  academic  dress  at  all  times,  and  is  ele- 
gible  to  University  offices. 

The  question  then  arose,  whether  all  these  rights, 
which  are  in  Cambridge  and  Oxford  very  consider- 
able, should  be  bestowed  on  all  religious  professions 
alike.  It  was  finally  decided  that  at  Cambridge 
a  dissenter  from  the  Church  of  England  might 
take  his  master's  degree  as  a  non-declarant,  that 
is,  without  the  declaration  that  he  belonged  to  the 
Church  ;  this  would  exempt  him  from  all  academic 
restraints,  cive  ]inn  t]ie  right  to  wear  the  M.  A. 
dress,  and  make  him,  I  believe,  eligible  to  all  offi- 
ces to  which  it  was  merely  specified  that  an  M.  A. 
should  be  chosen.  If,  however,  he  desired  to  be 
a  member  of  the  Senate,  that  is,  the  great  ruling 
body  of  the  University,  to  vote  at  elections  and 
meetings,  and  have  a  share  in  the  government,  he 


LECTURE   XI.  333 

must  declare,  lie  must  sign  the  declaration,  that  he 
was  bona  fide  a  member  of  the  Church  of  England. 
And  here  comes  in  the  collision.  By  the  college 
statutes,  a  person  chosen  a  fellow  must  proceed 
in  due  coiirse  to  his  M.  A.  degree.  The  major- 
ity of  graduates  are  content  as  here  with  their 
first  degree,  and  go  no  further.  But  a  person 
chosen  fellow  cannot  remain  a  Bachelor  of  Arts 
all  his  life,  he  must  qualify  himself  to  assist  in 
controlling  the  college  and  University.  And  the 
University  insists,  that  when  a  fellow  becomes  an 
M.  A.  it  must  be  as  a  member  of  the  Senate,  a 
declarant.  And  this  it  does  in  virtue  of  the  bloody 
Act  of  Uniformity  in  10G2  ;  the  act  that  turned 
two  thousand  non-conformist  ministers  of  the  Gos- 
pel out  of  their  parishes.  Before  that  act,  quan- 
tities of  fellowships  had  been  held  in  all  colleges, 
and  both  Universities,  by  persons  who  never  had 
sworn  allegiance  to  the  Church  of  England.  But 
this  act  prescribed  that  every  person  engaged  in 
any  office  of  teaching  or  preaching,  public  or  pri- 
vate, must  conform  bond  fide  to  the  Church  of 
England,  by  signing  this  declaration.  It  literally 
included  all  classes  engaged  in  religious  or  secular 
instruction,  from  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
and  the  .Master  of  Trinity,  to  the  poorest  curate 
in  Westmoreland,  and  the  humblest  private  tutor 
or  grammar-school  master!  The  provisions  of  this 
sweeping  act  were  one  by  one  softened,  but  no 
power   has   yet  prevailed    to  remove  the  require- 


834  ON  THE  CAM. 

ment  that  fellows  of  a  college  in  Oxford  or  Cam- 
bridge should  declare  themselves  members  of  the 
Church  of  England. 

You  may  suppose  that  this  declaration  is  signed 
by  many  who  have  the  slightest  possible  regard 
for  the  Church  of  England.  Indeed,  I  was  told 
that  Lord  Loughborough,  who,  as  Chancellor  of 
England  and  Keeper  of  the  King's  Conscience 
ought  to  understand  the  matter,  put  a  purely 
negative  interpretation  on  the  whole  matter.  A 
young  relative  of  his  entering  Oxford,  wrote  to 
protest  against  his  being  obliged  to  sign  the  thirty- 
nine  articles.  "  O,"  wrote  back  the  Chancellor, 
"  it  is  n't  supposed  that  you  believe  them,  it  is 
only  a  pledge  that  you  don't  hold  to  any  other  of 
the  world's  superstitions."  I  should  think  that 
the  Chancellor's  explanation  was  very  commonly 
received  in  England.  A  tremendous  effort  was 
made  to  get  this  requirement  removed,  as  to  the 
fellows,  in  the  last  year  or  two,  but  it  failed. 

I  have  already  said  that  by  the  old  constitu- 
tion of  the  University,  the  fellows  in  most  of 
the  colleges  were  obliged  to  take  priest's  orders 
in  the  Church  of  England,  or  forfeit  their  fellow- 
ships after  a  certain  length  of  time.  This  has  been, 
in  many  of  the  colleges,  extensively  modified  ;  par- 
ticularly in  Trinity  it  has  been  determined,  that  a 
fellow  who  takes  part  in  the  active  instruction  of 
the  college  for  ten  years,  may  retain  his  fellowship 
for  life,  or  till  marriage,  and  yet  remain  a  layman. 


LECTURE  XI.  335 

The  lessons  in  the  chapel  on  Saints'  Days  are 
read  by  the  fellows,  and,  in  certain  cases,  by  the 
head  of  the  college  ;  so  also  the  grace  before  meat 
every  day  in  the  hall. 

It  is  peculiar,  by  the  way,  the  history  of  this  re- 
quirement as  to  the  celibacy  of  the  members  of  the 
college  corporations.  In  some  colleges  it  is  wholly 
broken  up,  and  the  fellows  may  marry ;  in  others, 
any  fellow  who  is  chosen  to  a  University  office  as 
well,  such  as  professor,  or  librarian,  may  marry, 
and  retain  his  fellowship.  The  story  is  told  of  a 
college  fellow,  who  settled  down  in  a  country  par- 
ish, married,  and  never  told  anybody  of  it ;  so  that 
the  emoluments  of  his  fellowship,  which  he  by 
rights  forfeited  at  his  marriage,  continued  to  be 
paid  him  ;  and  the  first  the  college  heard  of  there 
beino-  anything  wrong,  was  by  receiving  a  letter 
from  his  widow,  hoping  that  they  would  continue  to 
her  the  little  annuity  they  had  so  kindly  paid  her 
recently  deceased  husband. 

There  is  another  motive  for  the  fellows  entering 
the  ministry  of  the  Church  of  England.  All  the 
colleges  at  Oxford  and  Cambridge  were  endowed 
by  their  founders  and  subsequent  benefactors  with 
the  right  of  presenting  clergymen  to  livings  and 
benefices  all  over  the  country.  The  general  course 
of  things,  therefore,  for  the  fellow  of  a  college  is 
to  wait  till  the  incumbent  of  some  parish  in  the  gilt 
of  the  college  dies,  then  resign  his  fellowship,  step 
in,  and  settle  down  as  a  parish  minister  for  life,  or 


336  ON  THE   CAM. 

until  he  gets  a  better  living  or  a  bishopric.  Many 
of  the  fellows  become  ensealed  to  be  married  on 
the  chances  of  a  college  living  falling  vacant. 
Some  atrocious  instances  are  known  of  fellows, 
wholly  unfit  to  instruct,  holding  on  and  on,  keep- 
ing their  undergraduates  waiting  for  their  fellow- 
ships,  and  their  intended  for  their  hand,  because 
the  old  clergyman  will  not  die,  that  holds  that  rich 
living  they  are  waiting  for. 

This  terminates,  I  believe,  the  first  part  of  my 
subject ;  namely,  the  immediate  connection  of  the 
University  with  the  religious  establishment  of  Eng- 
land. The  next  point  to  be  considered  is  the  posi- 
tion it  occupies  as  a  training  school  for  clergymen 
of  the  Established  Church. 

Formerly,  the  Universities,  Oxford,  Cambridge, 
and  Dublin,  had  a  monopoly  of  candidates  for  holy 
orders.  It  was  necessary  to  be  a  graduate  of  one 
of  them  to  receive  Episcopal  ordination,  —  unless 
in  very  peculiar  cases.  It  was  to  afford  young  men, 
especially  from  the  North,  a  cheaper,  yet  equally 
legitimate  passage  to  the  Church,  that  the  Univer- 
sity of  Durham  was  established.  Of  late,  however, 
this  privilege  is  removed ;  and  the  bishops  are  au- 
thorized to  admit  to  holy  orders  persons  who, 
though  not  University  men,  yet  appear,  on  scru- 
tiny by  the  examining  chaplains,  to  be  well  edu- 
cated, or,  as  the  phrase  is,  "  literate  persons."  The 
term  "  literate  "  is  easily  corrupted,  in  the  mouths 
of  University  men,  into  another,  not  quite  so  com- 
plimentary, but  more  often  true. 


LECTURE   XI.  337 

But  still  the  majority  of  young  men  who  seek  to 
become  ministers  of  the  Church  of  England,  enter 
one  of  the  Universities.  Formerly,  the  only  divin- 
ity instruction  was  that  given  by  the  lectures  of  the 
divinity  professors,  and  by  a  little  Greek  Testament 
and  other  theological  branches  introduced  into  the 
regular  college  and  university  examinations.  In  this 
way,  candidates  for  holy  orders,  who  were  too  lazy 
to  attend  the  professors"  lectures,  presented  them- 
selves for  ordination  miserably  qualified  for  their 
holy  office.  To  stimulate  theological  study,  the 
University  of  Cambridge  instituted  some  time  ago  a 
voluntary  theological  examination,  in  two  parts, 
one  harder  and  one  easier,  the  honor  and  the  or- 
dinary examination,  and  extending  over  all  the 
subjects  of  a  divinity  education.  All  persons  de- 
sirous of  entering  this  must  previously  have  at- 
tended a  course  of  divinity  lectures,  at  some  time 
in  their  college  course.  The  establishment  of  this 
examination  at  the  University  has  been  attended 
with  good  effects.  It  has  been  accepted  as  a  test 
of  theological  training  all  over  England.  Thus, 
you  constantly  see  in  the  theological  journals  ad- 
vertisements like  this:  "The  Bishop  of  London 
will  hold  his  next  ordination  on  Trinity  Sunday, 
June  8th.  Candidates  should  apply  to  his  Grace's 
Examining  Chaplains,  the  Rev.  ('anon  Stanley, 
Christ  Church,  Oxford,  or  the  Rev.  Prof.  Light- 
foot,  Trinitv  College,  Cambridge.  Candidates 
from   Cambridge  art;   required  to   have  passed  the 

1  ."j  V 


338  ON  THE   CAM. 

Theological  Examination."  Almost  all  the  bishops 
have  thus  adopted  it.  Hence  at  the  time  of  the 
theological  examination  there  is  a  great  rush  of 
young  graduates  to  Cambridge,  who  have  got  to 
pass  their  "  voluntary,"  as  they  term  it,  —  though 
it  is  now  not  really  voluntary  but  obligatory. 
The  professors'  lectures  are  very  good.  There 
are  four  divinity  professorships  besides  those  of 
Hebrew  and  moral  philosophy.  Of  course  the  in- 
struction is  entirely  to  prove  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land theology  perfect  and  unassailable.  In  the 
examinations,  which  are  very  thorough,  the  same 
end  is  strictly  kept  in  view.  There  is,  I  believe, 
no  instruction  in  pulpit  oratory.  Eloquent  ser- 
mons are  discouraged  in  the  Church  of  England. 
Otherwise,  the  theological  instruction  to  be  ac- 
quired at  Cambridge  is  for  that  body  most  excel- 
lent. 

There  is  one  other  requirement  before  a  mem- 
ber of  the  University  can  be  admitted  to  orders  in 
the  Church  of  England.  Pie  must  bring  testimo- 
nials  from  his  college  to  his  moral  character.  I 
have  seen  one  of  these  certificates.  It  was  signed 
by  the  master  and  eight  senior  fellows,  who  have 
the  government  of  the  college  in  their  hands.  It 
bore  the  most  emphatic  testimony  to  the  entire 
fitness  of  the  young  candidate  in  character  and 
learning,  for  his  high  and  sacred  office.  Now 
these  nine  gentlemen  who  signed  it,  were  of  all 
men  those  least  likely  to  know  anything  about  it. 


LECTUBE   XI.  389 

They  were  not  the  young  man's  instructors,  not 
his  acquaintances,  and  had  had  less  to  do  with  him 
than  any  officials  in  the  college.  How,  then,  does 
he  obtain  such  a  full  and  glowing  certificate  from 
them?  Pie  suspends  a  formal  notice  on  the  hall 
doors  that  "Dominus"  —  i.  e.,  graduate  —  "so 
and  so  requests  the  college  testimonials  for  orders/' 
He  then  gives  7s.  Gd.  to  the  chapel  clerk,  who 
procures  him  this  certificate,  all  signed  and  sealed 
as  a  matter  of  course,  if  he  has  complied  with  the 
formal  requirements  necessary  for  obtaining  it. 
What  are  these  formal  requirements  ?  That  three 
times  iu  the  whole  of  his  previous  college  course, 
as  undergraduate  or  graduate,  he  should  "have  par- 
taken of  the  communion  in  the  college  chapel  ! 
On  that  footing,  if  his  name  appears  three  times 
on  the  marker's  list  as  having  stayed  after  the 
monthly  service  to  the  communion,  he  receives  — 
no  matter  what  his  character  —  the  testimonial  of 
the  governors  of  his  college  to  his  perfect  fitness 
in  morality  and  learning  for  the  highest  office  a 
man  can  hold.  Every  now  and  then  von  see  men 
whom  von  know  to  have  graduated  sometime  since 
cominf  to  Cambridge  for  no  apparent  reason  ;  they 
appear  in  chapel  the  next  Sunday,  and  you  under- 
stand then  that  they  have  come  to  fill  up  the  num- 
ber of  these  attendances  at  the  communion,  or,  as 
the  phrase  is,  to  keep  their  sacraments.  I  saw 
many  things  in  England  that  pained  me  as  to  their 
estimation  of  sacred  things,  but  never  anything  like 


840  ON   THE   CAM. 

this  gross  levity  as  to  the  communion.  The  rite 
of  confirmation,  which  admits  to  a  participation  in 
it,  is  usually  administered  to  boys  at  school.  The 
Bishop  comes  down  to  Eton,  or  Harrow,  or  Rugby, 
and  confirms  boys  by  the  score.  I  have  repeat- 
edly heard  the  story  of  this  administration  told, 
and  it  seemed  to  be  always  the  same,  —  a  little 
fluttering  and  temporary  seriousness,  and  then 
the  whole  afterthought  as  of  a  matter  of  course  ;  a 
thing  to  be  gone  through,  that  oftentimes  had  a 
great  element  of  the  ludicrous  in  it,  such  as  stories 
of  how  the  Bishop's  hand  felt  on  the  head,  and 
yet  more  irreverent  and  revolting  details.  When 
this  is  the  preparation,  what  must  be  the  perform- 
ance ?  At  Cambridge  it  is  administered  in  a  very 
wholesale  manner,  and  the  young  candidates  for 
orders  seem  to  look  on  it  as  nothing  more  than  a 
formality  which  three  times  performed  gives  them 
a  certificate  of  morality. 

I  speak,  of  course,  only  of  a  portion.  There  are 
those,  and  perhaps  the  majority  of  Cambridge 
young  men,  who  deserve  any  certificate  that  could 
be  given  them ;  whose  attendance  on  all  the  rites 
of  the  church  is  constant,  reverent,  devout ;  who 
would  die  rather  than  regard  the  holiest  as  a  for- 
mality, or  a  substitute  for  a  pure  life.  But  why 
are  not  all  so  ?  Why  is  it  that  every  year,  in 
counting  up  those  of  your  college  acquaintance 
who  are  certainly  studying  theology,  the  majority 
are  of  a  dissolute  life,   of  which   Thackeray  has 


LECTURE   XI.  041 

given  us  such  a  terrible  picture  in  Bute  Crawley  ? 
It  is  because  they  can  get  this  easy  substitute  for 
a  high  character,  —  it  is  because  thrice  attending 
the  communion  will  give  them  a  testimonial  to 
conduct  to  which  their  whole  college  life  gives  the 
lie.  It  is  above  all,  from  the  English  system  of 
appointment  to  the  offices  in  the  Church.  You  are 
aware  that  in  England  it  is  very  rare  that  the  pa- 
rishioners in  a  church  choose  their  own  pastor. 
The  appointment  to  the  living,  as  it  is  called,  is  at- 
tached to  some  family  or  office  or  institution.  Al- 
most every  wealthy  country  family  has  one  or 
more  of  these  livings,  which  are  saved  as  a  provis- 
ion for  the  younger  sons.  A  young  man  goes  to 
college,  lives  the  freest  and  most  vicious  of  lives, 
and  stints  himself  all  the  less,  because  "  he  's  going 
into  the  Church,  and  they  're  keeping  a  living  for 
him  at  home.'"  Nay,  after  he  has  been  pursuing 
theological  studies  for  years,  after  he  is  ordained, 
after  lie  is  licensed  to  preach,  be  will  return  to 
Cambridge  to  see  his  old  friends,  ami  rush  into  all 
the  old  orgies,  and  excuse  himself  by  saying  that 
"  he  has  not  been  inducted  into  bis  parish,  and  when 
lie  is,  he  '11  turn  over  a  new  leaf.''  As  long  as  this 
system  of  family  presentation  continues,  the  Church 
will  never  be  free  from  a  set  of  lazy  and  vicious 
youths,  who  sow  their  wild  oats  up  to  her  very 
doors,  and  pursue  their  course  of  dissipation  with 
the  greater  license  because  she  will  give  them  a 
support,  and  three  perfunctory  attendances  on  her 


342  ON  THE  CAM. 

holiest  of  rites  will  secure  them  lying  testimonials 
to  learning  they  never  studied  and  virtues  they 
never  practised. 

It  is  a  sickening  picture  which  I  certainly  do  not 
love  to  contemplate.  Let  us  rather  turn  to  Cam- 
bridge as  one  of  the  great  nurseries  of  the  Church 
of  England  in  its  best  form ;  one  of  the  twin 
homes,  from  which  have  issued  for  hundreds  of 
years  all  the  real  strength,  learning,  and  piety  of 
that  great  institution.  I  gave  you  some  descrip- 
tion, in  my  ninth  lecture,  of  the  eminent  divines  of 
Cambridge  in  the  last  two  centuries.  It  is  now, 
therefore,  important  rather  to  describe  her  present 
position  in  the  Church  of  England,  with  reference 
to  its  parties,  its  power,  its  influence,  its  prospects. 

The  two  Universities,  Oxford  and  Cambridge, 
strictly  on  an  equality  as  they  are  in  so  many 
points,  are  so  in  none  more  than  in  the  proportion 
of  divines  they  supply  to  the  Church.  A  minister 
of  state  would  be  thought  exceedingly  partial  who 
did  not  fill  all  vacant  bishoprics  equally  from  grad- 
uates of  the  two  Universities.  But  with  reference 
to  the  position  they  occupy  as  to  the  parties  di- 
viding the  Church,  very  great  distinctions  must  be 
drawn. 

There  are  at  present  three  very  distinct  divis- 
ions in  the  Church  of  England,  viz.  the  High,  the 
Low,  and  the  Broad  Church  parties,  to  which  we 
may  add  the  Revolutionists.  The  High  Church 
party  are  sometimes  collectively  known  as  Pusey- 


LECTURE  XI.  343 

ites,  but  this  properly  belongs  only  to  an  extreme 
wing  of  them,  and  like  Traetarians  is  a  name  which 
generally  disappeared  with  the  controversy  that 
caused  it  about  twenty  years  ago.  The  High 
Church  party  has  several  shades.  Its  members 
range  from  the  "  good  Churchmen,"  who  are  very 
proud  of  this  name,  and  talk  a  great  deal  about  the 
Church  and  inveigh  against  the  dissenters,  but 
show  no  fondness  for  the  Church  of  Rome,  through 
the  High  Churchmen  proper,  up  to  the  Anglicans 
and  Anglo-Catholics.  As  you  get  higher  and 
higher,  you  find  an  increasing  love  for  vestments, 
rituals,  choral  services,  and  turnings  to  the  East. 
Miss  Sewell's  novels  are  a  very  good  type  of  the 
average  High  Church  party  views,  —  Miss  Yonge 
has  rather  fallen  off,  —  but  both  are  still  very 
strong  on  the  sacramental  doctrines,  the  distin- 
guishing mark  of  the  High  Churchmen.  The 
Bishop  of  Oxford  is  a  good  specimen  of  them. 

The  Low  Church  party,  of  which  Lord  Shaftes- 
bury was  long  considered  the  greatest  layman,  and 
Canon  McNeile  and  the  Bishop  of  Rochester  are 
among  the  leading  clergymen,  call  themselves  the 
Evangelicals.  They  hold  very  strongly  to  the  ar- 
ticles of  the  Church,  which,  as  Pitt  said,  were  Cal- 
vinistic,  while  her  ritual  was  Popish.  They  in-i>! 
on  doctrinal  points,  —  all  hold  the  literal  doctrine 
of  verbal  inspiration  of  the  Scriptures,  and  rather 
hold  out  the  left  hand  of  fellowship  to  the  Protest- 
ant  dissenters,  —  they  do  not  talk  much  about  the 


344  ON   THE  CAM. 

Church,  and  insist  very  little  on  sacramental  ordi- 
nances. Both  they  and  the  High  Church  party, 
however,  join  in  attacking  the  Broad  Church, 
whose  name  sufficiently  explains  its  nature,  stand- 
ing between  the  other  two,  hating  the  extremes  of 
both,  —  neither  insisting  on  daily  services  nor  on 
verbal  inspiration,  but  striving  to  raise  the  Church 
of  England  in  the  opinion  of  all  its  members  as  a 
universal  church.  An  old  joke  declares  that  the 
difference  between  the  High  and  Low  Church,  or 
the  Puseyites  and  Evangelicals,  is  the  difference 
between  Pussyism  and  Catechism.  A  still  more 
complete  one  classes  the  High  Church  with  its 
postures  and  genuflexions,  the  Low  with  its  inter- 
minable sermons  and  literal  comments,  and  the 
Broad,  thus  :  High  —  Attitudinarian  ;  Broad  — 
Latitudinarian  ;    Low  —  Platitudinarian. 

From  all  these  stand  out  the  Revolutionists;  —  I 
mean  the  men  who  are  convinced  that  the  Church 
of  England  must  submit  to  some  change.  As 
against  the  High  Party,  that  not  only  are  her  ser- 
vices and  sacraments  not  vital,  but  too  long,  too 
unchangeable,  too  antiquated  ;  as  against  the  Low, 
that  the  Athanasian  creed,  and  the  doctrine  of 
verbal  inspiration,  must  be  struck  out  of  the  prayer 
and  preaching  of  the  Church  ;  as  against  the  Broad, 
that  these  things  must  be  done,  and  not  merely 
talked  about,  —  that  it  will  not  do  merely  to  put 
the  extremists  aside  in  silence,  and  dwell  on  what  is 
acceptable  to  all,  but  that  the  Church  must  cease  to 


LECTURE   XI.  £45 

reprint,  to  republish,  to  reassert,  to  uphold,  day  af- 
ter day,  things  that  the  common  sense  and  common 
conscience  of  millions  in  England  resist  and  deny 
every  day ;  in  short,  that  the  extension  which  Til- 
lotson  and  William  III.  sought  to  make  in  the  pale 
of  the  Church,  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago, 
must  be  made  now ;  or  else  the  outsiders  will  rush 
in  and  break  down  the  whole  paling,  and,  instead 
of  being  let  in  by  tickets  duly  signed  and  counter- 
signed, will  take  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  by  force ! 
I  have  called  this  class  of  divines  Revolutionists, 
because  I  think  it  expresses  most  nearly  the  state 
of  thought  and  action  to  which  their  views  tend. 
You  may  give  them  what  name  you  will,  descrip- 
tive, laudatory,  censuring ;  they  may  be  stigma- 
tized as  Rationalists,  extolled  as  men  of  progress,  or 
merely  named  as  Essayists  and  Reviewers.  But, 
call  them  what  you  will,  think  of  them  as  you  will, 
it  cannot  be  denied,  it  cannot  be  overlooked,  that 
there  is  a  great  force  now  working  both  inside  and 
outside  the  English  Church  which  cannot  be  re- 
sisted. At  a  time  when  every  other  branch  of 
human  knowledge  and  experience  is  advancing  ten- 
fold in  a  year,  for  what  it  once  did  in  a  century  ;  at, 
;i  time  when  all  the  helps  to  Scripture  criticism  are 
of  tenfold  keenness  and  polish,  men  cannot  go  on 
accepting  without  question  the  same  results  that 
satisfied  Augustine  or  Calvin,  Edward  VI.  or 
Charles  I.  It  is  the  aim,  the  plea,  the  cry  of  these 
men,  that  the  work  of  progress,  of  truth,  of  casting 


346  ON  THE  CAM. 

off  the  senseless  shackles  of  tradition  and  supersti- 
tion may  come  from  within  the  Church ;  that  she 
may  look  in  time,  not  only  to  her  battlements  and 
pinnacles,  her  carved  work  and  her  silken  hang- 
ings, hut  to  her  lower  walls  and  her  foundations. 
Let  her  he  sure  that  her  mortar  is  not  untempered, 
that  no  quicksand  lurks  in  the  hollows  of  the  rock 
whereon  she  boasts  to  stand  ;  for  the  clouds  are 
gathering  in  the  heavens,  the  rivers  are  swelling 
high,  the  wind  is  sighing  from  the  forest ;  and,  when 
that  rain  does  descend,  that  flood  does  come,  that 
wind  does  blow,  and  beat  upon  her  house,  if  there 
is  treachery  in  that  boasted  foundation  of  Articles, 
and  Creeds,  and  Ritual,  great  will  be  the  fall  of  it. 
Now  with  regard  to  these  parties,  the  Universi- 
ties stand  thus  affected.  Oxford  is  always  in  ex- 
tremes. Twenty  years  ago,  when  the  Tractarian 
or  Puseyite  movement  swept  over  England,  Ox- 
ford went  heels  over  head,  right  into  the  abyss, 
and  emerged  soaked  and  dripping.  Her  architect- 
ure, her  poetry,  her  divinity,  her  politics,  all  be- 
came saturated  with  lecterns  and  roodlofts,  chasu- 
bles and  dalmatics,  vigils  and  antiphons,  Charles 
the  Saint  and  Laud  the  Martyr.  Ruskin  was  not 
too  independent,  Mansel  not  too  philosophical  not 
to  catch,  unconsciously  perhaps,  deep  tinges  of  the 
scarlet  dye.  When  this  stream,  so  sparkling  yet 
so  turbid,  brawling  over  a  dead  leaf  like  a  stone, 
thundering  against  an  oak  of  centuries  like  a  weed 
of  yesterday,  had  run  itself  fairly  into  the  subter- 


LECTUEE  XI.  347 

ranean  cell  of  monasticism,  another  spring,  tlie 
spring  of  criticism,  of  free  discussion,  of  liberal 
thought  broke  out,  and  now  who  so  liberal  as  Ox- 
ford, who  so  eager  for  reform  in  the  Church,  who 
so  indignant  against  subscription  ?  What  are  we 
to  think  of  a  University  where  Heurtley  and  Stan- 
ley are  both  canons  of  Christ  Church,  and  Jowett 
and  Pusey  both  Professors  ?  Oxford  is  like  France 
after  the  Restoration.  The  Bourbon  Kins  and 
the  Napoleon  Code,  the  times  of  the  flood  and  the 
times  of  the  Reformation ;  between  them  they 
have  excluded  deliberation,  moderation,  harmony. 
I  need  not  say  I  strongly  sympathize  with  the 
Jowetts  and  the  Stanleys,  but  I  know  that  when 
the  excitement  of  admiration  for  them  is  gone, 
we  shall  fall  back  on  the  Wilberforces  and  the 
Puseys.  In  the  seventeenth  century  Oxford  edu- 
cated John  Locke  ;  and  she  also  burnt  his  works 
as  pestilent  and  seditious.  The  spirit  of  her 
younger  men  is  towards  reason,  liberality,  reform  ; 
but  the  curse  of  Reuben  is  upon  them,  "  Unstable 
as  water,  thou  shalt  not  excel." 

How,  then,  does  Cambridge  stand  affected  ? 
Cambridge  never  has  been  in  extremes.  She 
never  stood  out  either  as  the  mother  of  the  bigoted 
tories  or  the  fanatic  radicals,  llvv  principle  lias 
been,  as  expressed  in  the  mouths  and  works  of  her 
great  men,  to  keep  just  in  advance  of  the  times  ; 
to  lead  in  Kngland  ;  never  to  be  a  long  way  ahead, 
and  never  the  least  behind  the  general  sentiment 


348  ON   THE  CAM. 

of  the  English  nation ;  and  so  is  she  at  the  present 
time.  The  extreme  High  Church  or  Tractarian 
fever  affected  her  but  slightly.  Of  course  in  a 
place  containing  so  many  interesting  archaeological 
and  ecclesiastical  monuments,  and  so  devoted  to 
the  Church,  there  were  some  violent  Anglicans, 
but  there  always  was  a  strong  basis  of  common 
sense  to  put  a  check  on  their  excesses.  The  Low 
Church  clergy  have  always  flourished  at  Cam- 
bridge. These  Calvinistic  divines,  in  England  as 
in  Holland,  in  France,  and  till  lately  in  America, 
are  always  on  the  side  of  t liberal  principles,  of  pro- 
gress ;  though  their  reasoning  may  be  narrow  and 
tortured,  yet  they  are  willing  to  reason  somewhat, 
whereas  the  High  Church  clergy  steadily  refuse  to 
reason  at  all.  But  the  glory  of  Cambridge  at  the 
present  day  is  her  divines  of  the  Broad  or  Liberal 
section  of  the  Church  proper,  those  who  have  not 
yet  become  convinced  that  her  articles  and  formulas 
need  essential  change,  but  who  are  foremost  in  free 
criticism  of  the  Scriptures,  in  laying  aside  tradition 
and  superstition,  in  raising  the  spirit  above  the 
letter,  in  eagerness  to  demonstrate  their  faith  on  a 
rational  basis.  Such  are  Ellicott,  the  most  labori- 
ous and  accurate  of  all  commentators  on  the  text 
of  the  New  Testament,  and  Alford,  less  acute,  less 
advanced,  less  free  from  servile  tradition,  but  still 
gentle,  tender,  Catholic,  Christian.  Such  in  the 
last  generation  wus  that  fearless  inquirer  into  truth, 
Julius  Charles  Hare,  and  that  faithful  and  diligent 


LECTURE   XI.  349 

student  of  ecclesiastical  history,  knocking  down 
unfounded  traditions  right  and  left,  Archdeacon 
Hardwick.  Such  a  divine  is  Vaughan,  who,  having: 
given  fifteen  years  of  his  life  to  winning  the  hearts 
of  boys  to  truth  and  purity,  is  devoting  the  rest  of 
it  to  teaching  men  and  women  the  same  noble  les- 
sons ;  such  is  Kingsley,  about  whom  our  opinion 
here  has  changed  so  often,  hot-headed,  blundering, 
the  blind  follower  of  whatever  society  he  is  last  in, 
but  still,  through  all  his  errors,  aiming  at  love  and 
liberty.  Such  a  one  is  a  most  accomplished  and 
amiable  man,  who  I  was  delighted  to  see  suggested 
for  the  vacant  bishopric  of  Ely,  the  diocese  in 
which  Cambridge  stands,  the  Venerable  Lord  Ar- 
thur Ilervey,  whose  work  on  the  Genealogies  of  our 
Lord  I  wish  thus  publicly  to  commend  to  all  stu- 
dents of  Scripture,  as  discussing  a  most  perplexed 
question  in  the  light  of  new  discoveries  with  unu- 
sual precision,  acuteness,  and  judgment.  Such  a 
one  is  Lightfoot,  my  own  revered  and  beloved 
college  tutor,  who  is  devoting  the  whole  energy  of 
a  mind  of  powers  peculiarly  various,  vigorous,  and 
fearless,  to  a  new  commentary  on  the  Greek  Testa- 
ment which  I  venture  to  predict  will  in  due  time 
astonish  the  Christian  world  by  its  learning,  its 
intelligence,  and  its  piety,  and  prove  him  a  worthy 
namesake  of  the  revered  orientalist.  From  Cam- 
bridge, too,  is  that  gentle  soul,  too  holv  and  too 
pure  for  the  controversies  of  these  times,  who  in 
the   very  foremost    and   advanced   raids,  of  the   di- 


350  ON  THE  CAM. 

vines  of  the  Church,  is  pleading  with  angelic  energy 
for  the  emancipation  of  truth  and  love  from  bigotry 
and  calumny.  Reviled,  insulted,  betrayed,  may  long 
years  yet  be  in  store  for  him  of  victorious  and  hon- 
ored life,  and  ages  to  come  shall  assuredly  weep 
tears  of  gi'atitude  on  the  memory  of  that  faithful 
champion  of  Christ  and  that  true  lover  of  his  race, 
Frederick  Denison  Maurice. 

It  is  to  these  men  that  Cambridge  looks  as  the 
strength  of  the  Church.  She  has  a  few  of  the 
Revolutionary  party  among  her  sons,  Rowland 
Williams  and  his  fellow  essayist  Goodwin,  and  the 
late  lamented  Donaldson.  But  it  is  not  from  her 
that  the  forlorn  hope  will  lead  the  assault  and  the 
victorious  general  sound  the  onset  on  the  totter- 
ing castle  of  superstition.  When  the  walls  are 
crumbling  and  the  ruins  smoking;  it  will  be  for 
her  eloquent,  prudent,  wise  men  to  come  forward, 
to  repair  the  breaches  with  new  and  better  stone, 
to  weave  newer  blazonry  into  the  old  standard, 
and  bid  its  sacred  folds  float  over  a  widened, 
strengthened,  peaceful  church.  For  though  the 
fiery  invaders  as  well  as  the  immovable  bigots  are 
not  from  her,  yet  it  is  to  her  the  people  of  England 
look  in  the  end  for  the  faithful  leaders  that  are  to 
guide  their  feet  into  the  way  of  peace. 

It  is  sometimes  pleasant  to  close  our  thoughts 
of  a  troubled,  anxious  state  of  affairs,  with  a  con- 
templation of  its  ludicrous  side.  About  thirty  years 
ago  a  vouiiff  man  of  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge, 
took    a    very  distinguished    mathematical    degree, 


LECTURE    XL  351 

and  at  once  devoted  himself,  as  so  many  do,  to  the 
duties  of  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England, 
together  with  those  of  an  instructor  in  his  favor- 
ite branch  of  learning.  He  also  wrote  some  ele- 
mentary books,  which  soon  became  popular,  and 
every  school  in  England  used  the  "  Elements  of 
Arithmetic  and  Algebra,  by  J.  W.  Colenso." 
These  good  services  procured  him  the  honor- 
able exile  of  a  colonial  bishopric.  Meditating 
in  his  leisure  on  the  Old  Testament,  he  became 
suddenly  aware  of  difficulties  in  the  text,  which 
any  learned  man  in  Germany  or  America  could 
have  told  him  had  long  ago  been  recognized  and 
merely  laid  aside  as  not  affecting  the  spirit.  But 
the  poor  man,  being  a  bishop  of  the  Church  of 
England,  was  cpiite  amazed,  and  published  them 
as  startling  novelties.  A  storm  of  obloquy  was 
at  once  poured  on  his  head,  and  all  the  thunders 
of  such  a  Vatican  as  can  be  got  up  on  short  notice 
at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  have  been  lately  rat- 
tling all  around  him.  I  cannot  better  illustrate 
the  ludicrous  aspect  of  Church  politics  in  England 
than  by  repeating  to  you  an  Epic  in  the  modern 
stvle,  jointly  composed  by  two  so-called  scholars 
of  Trinitv,  one  of  whom  I  know  might  have  been 
much  better  occupied. 

"A  bifhoj),  of  tastes  arithmetical, 
Endeavors  to  lie  exejretical; 
So  he  rashly  exposes 
The  errors  of  Moses, 
Ami  at  oner  i-  condemned  as  heretical." 


XII. 

RELATIONS    OF    CAMBRIDGE,    ENGLAND,  AND 
AMERICA. 

The  Universities  and  the  Professions.  —  Middle-Class  Exam- 
inations. —  The  Universities  Aristocratic.  —  Cambridge 
and  Oxford  Contrasted.  —  Cambridge  the  liberal  Uni- 
versity. —  English  Opinions  of  America.  —  Mutual  Needs 
of  the  two  Countries.  —  Concluding  Stanzas. 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen  :  — 

When  a  traveller  in  some  distant  city  has  duly 
surveyed  all  the  objects  of  interest  it  contains,  has 
listened  to  every  long-winded  explanation  rattled 
off  by  his  guide,  paid  every  fee  for  seeing  what  he 
did  n't  want  to,  and  being  shown  what  he  could 
see  without ;  when  his  head  is  filled  with  a  mass  of 
images,  some  clear,  some  vague,  but  all  separate, 
just  as  he  has  made  up  his  mind  to  leave  for  new 
scenes  and  wonders,  his  footsteps  will  lead  him  into 
the  environs  of  the  town.  He  will  turn  to  some 
gentle  eminence,  and,  tired  as  he  is,  will  cheerfully 
submit  to  the  ascent,  that  he  may  be  rewarded  by 
the  prospect.  And  lo  !  that  mass  of  buildings  that 
seemed  so  senseless  and  confused,  ranges  itself  into 
shape  and  consistency.  The  streets  and  squares 
map  themselves   out  before   him,  the   spires  rear 


LECTURE   XII.  353 

themselves  in  graceful  and  decent  supremacy  over 
the  buildings  given  up  to  worldly  cares  ;  the  river 
becomes  no  longer  the  turbid  flood  he  crossed  six 
or  eight  times  in  hurrying  from  cathedral  to  gar- 
den, and  from  gallery  to  prison,  —  it  is  the  great 
artery  which  is  carrying  to  the  extremities  of  the 
nation  the  life-blood  of  the  nation's  heart,  —  and 
this  heart,  the  city  itself,  stands  forth  like  a  queen 
on  her  throne,  to  bid  the  stranger,  in  the  name  of 
the  country,  "  hail  and  farewell."  He  casts  his 
eyes  all  around,  to  watch  the  fields  standing  thick 
with  harvest  or  purple  with  the  vintage  ;  the  loaded 
wagons  toiling  on  to  pour  the  wealth  of  the  farmers 
into  the  laps  of  the  burghers  ;  the  stately  mansions 
dotting  the  heights  where  the  princes  of  the  land 
retreat  in  the  heats  of  summer ;  the  lofty  hills 
that  have  survived  a  hundred  civilizations  looking 
down  on  the  whole.  He  reflects  how  the  few 
acres  of  land,  inhabited  by  a  icw  score  thousand 
men,  have  become  the  concentration  of  leagues  and 
millions,  whose  line  is  gone  out  through  all  the 
earth,  and  their  words  to  the  ends  of  the  world. 
And  then,  if  he  is  an  American,  and  his  heart  is 
not  wholly  chilled  or  estranged,  he  will  turn  his 
eyes  fondly  westward,  and  dream  that  in  the 
mighty  mass  of  clouds  which  the  setting  sun  is 
tinging  with  tender  green  and  gorgeous  crimson, 
he  can  see  the  hills  of  his  own  dear  country  :  and 
he  feels  his  soul  leap  along  that  golden  ray  that  has 
just  shot  to  his  feet,  and  is'  uniting,  with  an  electric 


354  ON   THE  CAM. 

flash,  the  lovely  land  of  his  exile  and  the  peerless 
nation  of  his  birth. 

Ladies  and  gentlemen,  —  our  six  weeks'  visit  to 
Cambridge  is  drawing  to  a  close.  You  have  kindly 
submitted  to  my  guidance  through  its  maze  of 
wonders  and  treasures,  its  public  halls  and  its  pri- 
vate homes  ;  you  have  made  the  acquaintance  of 
some  of  its  inhabitants  and  picked  up  some  of  its 
phrases.  Last  Tuesday  you  spent  an  hour  in  that 
form  of  foreign  sight-seeing,  which,  though  fre- 
quently most  curious,  is  always  to  me  most  tedious, 
its  churches  and  chapels.  And  now  before  we  take 
our  homeward  passage,  let  us  go  the  top  of  the 
Castle  Hill,  look  back  upon  all  we  have  left,  and 
raising  our  eyes  to  the  fields  around,  think  not 
only  what,  but  where  Cambridge  is,  what  her  rela- 
tions are  to  the  wonderful  country  to  which  she 
belongs,  and  what  Englishmen  themselves  think 
of  their  mighty  University.  And  then,  at  last, 
let  our  eyes  take  a  westerly  turn,  and  look  along 
the  chain  which  connects  every  two  countries  on 
the  earth.  Perchance  we  shall  find  that  it  is  not, 
as  some  of  us  suppose,  light  as  gossamer,  nor  yet, 
as  the  same  persons  inconsistently  deem,  forged  of 
cankering  iron,  and  stained  with  spots  of  rust,  or  a 
vet  angrier  red  ;  but  at   once  strong  as  the  hills 

J  Try  *  o 

and  gorgeous  as  the  sunbeams,  links  of  the  purest 
gold,  rivets  of  priceless  jewels,  never,  never  to  be 
broken. 

The  relations  of  the  "Universities  to  the  nation 


LECTURE  xn.  355 

are  not  in  England  exactly  the  same  as  they  are 
in  this  country.  Oxford  and  Cambridge  do  not 
stand  quite  on  the  same  footing,  as  regards  the 
professions,  with  Yale  and  Harvard.  The  chief 
aspect  in  which  colleges  are  regarded  throughout 
this  country  is  as  the  training  for  certain  profes- 
sions called  liberal.  As  far  as  the  Church  is  con- 
cerned, Cambridge  and  Oxford  are  even  more  im- 
portant to  England  than  our  colleges  to  us.  In 
the  profession  of  the  Law,  also,  there  is  about  the 
same  proportion  there  as  here  of  young  men  who 
first  £0  through  the  University,  and  of  those  who 
begin  their  law  studies  directly  with  nothing  but  a 
school  education.  In  the  profession  of  medicine 
there  is  a  vast  difference.  Here,  the  majority  of 
regular  practitioners  have  a  University  education  ; 
there,  it  is,  I  think,  decidedly  the  reverse.  The 
reason  of  this  is,  that  the  medical  profession  does 
not  stand  on  a  level  with  the  bar,  the  pidpit,  the 
senate,  or  the  army,  as  a  calling  for  young  gen- 
tlemen, and  this  it  is  which  sends  the  prospective 
physicians  to  be  educated  elsewhere.  The  Uni- 
versity in  England  is  essentially  an  aristocratic 
institution,  more  so  even  than  here.  The  major- 
ity of  persons  who  go  there,  go  to  obtain  the  edu- 
cation of  a  gentleman.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that. 
there  are  not  many,  and  many  of  the  most  distin- 
guished of  the  University,  who  belong  to  the  lower 
classes.  But  they  Lr'>  to  the  University  because  it 
at  once  nuts  them  on  a  higher  platform,  because  it 


356  ON   THE   CAM. 

gives  them  an  entrance  into  the  Church,  much 
more  honorable  than  any  they  can  get  elsewhere. 
The  University  or  the  military  service  of  the  coun- 
try is  the  natural  destination  of  all  young  gentle- 
men, and  you  know  how  much  that  name  means  in 
England,  including  the  whole  landed  aristocracy, 
titled  or  untitled.  Neither  the  medical  nor  the 
commercial  professions,  what  we  call  generally 
"business,"  are  considered  proper  for  a  young 
gentleman  to  engage  in.  The  son  of  a  nobleman, 
a  baronet,  a  large  landed  proprietor,  a  clergyman, 
must  if  possible  go  into  the  University  or  the  army 
or  navy ;  any  other  destination  after  his  school  life 
is  closed  is  derogatory.  A  few  sons  of  bankers 
may  be  taken  into  their  fathers'  counting-houses ; 
a  few  persons  interested  in  government,  who  are  in 
a  very  great  hurry  to  make  officials  of  their  sons, 
will  give  them  a  place  in  a  government  office  at 
once ;  but  as  a  rule,  the  civil  life  of  all  gentlemen 
is  begun  at  the  University  of  Oxford  or  Cambridge. 
In  particular,  those  who  are  to  make  Parliament, 
government  business,  or  diplomacy,  the  occupation 
of  their  life,  —  and  you  will  remember  that  in 
England  men  select  these  as  the  occupation  of  their 
lives,  without  being  dependent  either  on  popular 
election  or  oratorical  ajbility,  and  without  studying 
any  other  profession,  —  always  begin  by  acquiring 
that  knowledge  of  men,  that  practice  in  the  ways 
of  society,  that  habit  of  getting  information  from 
voluminous  works,  that  practice  in  putting  their 


lecture  xn.  357 

knowledge  on  paper,  which  nothing  but  a  Univer- 
sity can  give.  And  hence  you  will  get  an  idea  of 
the  position  that  the  Universities  occupy  in  Eng- 
land;  they  are  not  places  of  popular  education, 
thev  are  not  means  for  diffusing  education  amonc 
the  people,  but  they  are  the  head-quarters  of  polite 
literature  and  exact  science,  and  the  great  train- 
ing  schools  for  the  governing  classes.  And  this 
is  so  felt  throughout  England,  that  a  farmer,  or  a 
country  attorney,  or  a  doctor  in  a  small  town,  feels 
that  by  sending  his  son  to  college  he  will  give  him 
a  rank  among  his  fellow-citizens  he  never  could 
have  had  without,  and  give  the  name  a  new  lustre 
that  will  go  far  in  accomplishing  an  Englishman's 
dearest  wish,  the  founding  of  a  family. 

The  University,  then,  is  rather  an  aristocratic 
than  a  popular  institution,  as  far  as  its  direct  edu- 
cation is  concerned.  England,  as  is  well  known, 
is  becoming  a  government  of  the  people  more  and 
more  every  day  ;  the  popular  influences  are  con- 
stantly pressing  harder  on  the  old  aristocratic  and 
royal  establishments  ;  and  one  would  naturally  sup- 
pose that  this  would  diminish  the  credit  in  which 
the  Universities  are  held.  And,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, this  is  true.  Alreadv  the  Church  is  thrown 
open  to  candidates  not  from  the  (niversities ;  al- 
ready the  retaining  attornevs  have  ceased  to  value 
a  barrister  on  his  having  taken  a  liigh  degree  :  al- 
readv commerce,  engineering,  mechanical  science, 
are  arrogating  to  themselves  places  on  the  list  of 


358  ON   THE   CAM. 

liberal  occupations  that  the  old  professions  are  re- 
luctantly obliged  to  concede  to  them.  Just  at 
this  crisis,  just  as  one  would  think  that  the  old, 
abuse-eaten,  expensive,  exclusive  Universities  must 
give  up  the  hold  they  have  so  long  had  on  the 
people  of  England,  — just  as  some  new  instructors 
for  the  people  are  loudly  called  for,  they  —  the 
old,  the  worn-out,  the  antediluvian — have  stepped 
into  the  breach,  and  declared,  like  King  Richard 
to  the  mob,  when  their  champion  was  slain, 
"  We  will  be  your  instructors,  we,  your  Univer- 
sities." It  had  long  been  conceded  that  the  plan 
of  written  examinations,  at  stated  times,  followed 
by  published  lists  of  the  success  of  the  respective 
candidates,  was  an  excellent  stimulus  to  study. 
Accordingly,  the  two  Universities  appoint  examina- 
tions all  over  the  country,  in  all  the  principal  towns 
and  cities.  They  choose,  out  of  their  most  emi- 
nent members,  a  large  body  of  examiners.  Each 
draws  up  examination  papers  in  his  favorite  sub- 
ject ;  not  only  in  the  chosen  subjects  of  college 
instruction,  the  Ancient  Languages  and  Mathe- 
matics, but  in  the  Modern  Languages,  French, 
German,  and  Italian  ;  in  the  Sciences,  Botany,  and 
Zoologv,  and  Geology,  and  Chemistry,  and  Natu- 
ral Philosophy  ;  in  English  Literature,  and  the 
development  of  our  language ;  in  Ancient  and 
Modern  History ;  and  in  Music.  To  these  exami- 
nations all  persons,  producing  proper  certificates 
of  age,   etc.,   are  cordially  invited ;   they  are  ex- 


LECTURE   XII.  359 

amined  in  various  classes,  according  to  the  degree 
of  proficiency  they  profess  ;  the  results  of  the  ex- 
aminations are  published  ;  those  who  pass,  with  a 
certain  degree  of  credit,  examinations  of  certain 
difficulty,  receive  from  the  Universities  the  emi- 
nently pleasing  and  honorable  title  of  Associate  in 
Arts,  and  are  at  once  marked  out  to  the  whole 
nation  as  young  men  who  will  do  credit  to  their 
teachers  and  employers.  In  this  way,  just  at  the 
time  when  the  credit  and  authority  of  Oxford  and 
Cambridge  might  be  supposed  to  be  diminishing, 
they  have  leapt  to  their  feet,  clothed  in  all  their 
ancient  might,  and,  like  the  combatants  in  the 
arena  of  old,  cast  a  net  of  affection  and  influence 
over  all  England,  fine  as  silk,  but  strong  as  steel. 
I  know  of  no  more  noble  effort  ;  whether  we  con- 
sider the  difficulty  of  assimilating  old  forms  to  new 
men,  or  the  prejudice  against  adapting  essentially 
aristocratic  and  exclusive  institutions  to  all  classes, 
or  the  reluctance  that  men  of  letters,  used  to  their 
dear  old  conventual  life,  would  naturally  have  to 
expend  their  treasures  aiming  the  people,  and 
themselves  go  from  town  to  town  to  assist  in 
their  diffusion,  —  all  these  things  being  remem- 
bered, J  know,  I  sav,  of  no  more  noble  effort  in 
the  annals  of  education,  than  the  establishment,  by 
Cambridge  and  Oxford,  of  these  Middle-Class  F,x- 
aminations. 

You  see  in  this   svstem   the  old  character  of  the 
University    religiously    preserved.       It     does     not 


360  ON   THE   CAM. 

afford  these  candidates  instruction,  but  a  stimulus 
to  receive  instruction ;  not  teaching,  but  a  test  of 
teaching.  It  stretches  its  influence  over  them, 
not  so  much  coming  down  to  them,  as  drawing 
them  to  it.  And  it  still  preserves  its  old  aristo- 
cratic character,  —  it  does  not  make  itself  any- 
more an  institution  of  the  people,  it  makes,  even 
in  the  degree  it  gives  them,  a  distinction  between 
them  and  its  own  proper  children,  who  live  in 
its  walls ;  and  several,  who  in  their  youth  have 
passed  these  examinations,  and  been  received 
Associates  of  Arts,  afterwards  enter  the  Uni- 
versity and  take  the  regular  degree,  as  if  dis- 
satisfied with  their  partial  reception  into  the  ranks 
of  the  learned. 

Hence  you  see  precisely  the  position  held  by 
the  Universities,  —  offering  their  own  instruction, 
in  a  course  expensive,  arduous,  and  in  some 
respects  exclusive,  to  all  who  are  able  to  avail 
themselves,  they  extend  their  authority  as  auto- 
crats of  education  over  the  whole  body  of  the 
English  people.  This  is  essentially  an  aristocratic 
theory,  however  popularized  it  may  be.  It  tends 
in  fact  to  create  and  to  ratify  formally  an  aris- 
tocracy of  learning  ;  an  aristocracy'  to  which  any 
one  is  eligible,  but  to  which  when  once  elected, 
he  is  separated  from  those  who  have  not  entered. 
There  is  no  law  to  prevent  all  the  worshippers 
from  forcing  their  way  to  any  part  of  the  Temple, 
from  the  Court  of  the   Gentiles  to  the  Holy  of 


lecture  xn.  361 

Holies,  —  but  be  his  place  at  the  moment  where 
he  will,  he  is  walled  off  for  the  time  being, — 
walled  out  from  the  select  ones  who  have  gone 
yet  farther,  while  the  crowd  beyond  are  walled 
out  from  him. 

And  while  thus  creating  a  class  distinct  from 
others,  the  University  goes  yet  farther,  and  keeps 
up  its  connection  with  them  through  life.  By  its 
preference  in  all  appointments  to  Church  offices, 
or  posts  as  school  teachers  ;  by  the  prior  claim  it 
gives  for  all  goveimment  posts  ;  by  the  lucrative 
and  honorable  offices  in  its  own  immediate  gift,  or 
that  of  its  colleges  ;  by  the  facility  and  pleasure 
of  returning  to  its  walls,  and  the  security  of  finding 
old  friends  still  living  there  at  whatever  age  you 
retiu-n  ;  by  its  immediate  concern  in  Parliament 
and  elections,  —  by  all  these  the  children  of  the 
University  are  bound  to  their  mother  all  over  Eng- 
land. When  the  clergyman  in  your  parish  begins 
the  service,  you  can  tell  at  once  from  which  Univer- 
sity he  comes  by  tin.'  color  of  his  silk  hood,  white 
and  black  for  Cambridge,  red  and  black  for  Ox- 
ford. Yes,  the  University  spreads  out  her  arms 
all  over  England,  and  (h'ops  the  seed  of  power 
and  strength  in  its  remotest  corners,  springing  up 
into  the  stateliest  of  trees,  overtopping  the  low- 
lier plants.  In  the  halls  of  the  legislature,  the 
offices  of  state,  the  very  King's  palace, —  in  the 
parish  church  and  the  school-room,  —  in  the  heats 
of  India,  the   snows  of  Canada,   the  wilds  of  Aus- 


362  ON  THE   CAM. 

tralia,  still  we  find  her  children,  "  wherever  the 
chosen  race  and  sons  of  England  worship  "  learn- 
ing "  they  turn  their  faces  towards  her." 
"  If  she  but  stretch  her  hand 
She  heaves  the  gods,  the  ocean  and  the  laud." 

But  though  both  the  Universities  are  essen- 
tially  aristocratic,  essentially  institutions  for  the 
governing  classes,  they  are  of  very  different  char- 
acters. The  governing  classes  in  England  may 
be  divided  into  two  very  distinct  parts,  which  for 
want  of  a  better  name  I  may  call  the  old  and  the 
new  aristocracy,  though  these  names,  like  all  such 
general  appellations,  "will  not  hold  in  all  cases. 
The  old  aristocracy  consists  of  the  old  families, 
whether  bearing  noble  titles  or  not,  that  have  been 
accustomed  for  centuries  to  hold  rank  as  the  gov- 
erning class,  and  are  slow  to  admit  innovations  in 
their  habits,  or  additions  to  their  number.  It 
comprehends  nearly  that  whole  body  of  landed 
proprietors,  who  own  the  greater  part  of  the  soil 
of  England,  and  to  some  extent  still  clino-  to  the 
theory  that  England,  the  whole  country,  belongs 
to  them ;  that  a  man  who  owns  ten  acres  of  land 
has  actually  more  right  to  enjoy  the  institutions 
of  the  country  than  a  man  who  owns  two,  no 
matter  what  the  comparison  may  be  in  other 
respects. 

The  new  aristocracy  consists  of  those  who  are 
forcing  themselves  every  year  into  the  ranks  of  the 
old,  by  wealth  acquired  in  trade  or  commerce,  by 


lecture  xn.  363 

distinction  at  the  bar,  or,  by  sheer  force  of  charac- 
ter and  strength  of  mind,  ousting  from  their  seats 
the  old  effete  houses  that  have  run  their  race,  and 
ceased  to  be  of  use.  You  might  not  be  able  to  tell 
the  difference  between  the  two  classes  on  a  mere 
sight  of  their  houses  and  estates  ;  but  the  least  in- 
tercourse with  them,  the  least  practice  in  their 
ways  of  talking,  would  show  you  that  the  power 
of  the  English  government,  the  authority  which 
for  eio;ht  centuries  has  been  connected  with  wealth 
and  hereditary  rank,  is  no  longer  in  the  hands  of  a 
single,  united  body,  but  that  the  old  nobility,  —  in- 
cluding quite  as  much  the  squirearchy,  the  country 
gentlemen  without  title,  as  the  peerage,  —  luus 
yielded  very  much  ground  to  a  new  set  of  men 
who  have  risen  to  their  places,  some  by  one  means, 
some  by  another,  but  all  in  virtue  of  the  new  Eng- 
lish civilization,  as  different  from  the  old  as  the 
royal  family  now  on  the  throne  is  different  from 
the  Stuarts.  It  is  this  that  has  preserved  the  aris- 
tocracy, the  nobility,  the  landed  gentry  so  long, 
and  is  likely  to  preserve  it  so  much  longer,  —  that 
as  one  bv  one  the  old  families  become  effete,  a  new 
set  of  men,  born  of  the  people,  come  in  to  take 
their  places.  In  some  cases,  the  new  men  insen- 
sibly fill  exactly  the  places  of  the  old;  like  the 
Norman  nobles  who  went  to  Ireland,  and  became 
more  Celtic  than  the  Celts  themselves;  they  be- 
come more  noble  than  the  nobility,  more  conserva- 
tive   than    the    conservatives.      This    is   eminently 


364  ON   THE   CAM. 

true  of  pure  parvenus,  men  who  suddenly  ac- 
quire large  fortunes  by  doubtful  means,  who  are 
enabled  by  one  bound  from  obscurity  to  step  into 
large  estates  ;  they  ape  not  only  the  style  of  living 
but  the  style  of  thinking  and  talking  of  the  old 
aristocracy,  change  a  good  plain  Saxon  name  for  a 
Norman  one,  to  which  everybody  knows  they  have 
no  right,  and  talk  about  the  Conqueror,  as  if  they 
were  the  king-making  Neville  himself.  But  those 
who,  without  such  freaks  of  fortune,  have  risen  by 
steady  industry  and  force  of  character  to  take  their 
place  among  the  magnates  of  the  land,  generally 
show  that  they  are  of  another  breed  than  the 
haughty  peers  that  sought  to  hold  both  houses  of 
Parliament  as  their  own  appanage  in  1832. 

We  may  then  fairly  draw  this  somewhat  rough 
line  of  distinction  in  the  whole  English  aristocracy, 
—  the  whole  class  from  whom  the  Universities  are 
recruited  ;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  in  gen- 
eral the  first,  the  old  aristocracy,  chiefly  patronize 
Oxford  ;  the  second,  the  new  aristocracy,  hold  by 
Cambridge.  Not,  of  course,  invariably ;  many 
of  the  great  baronial  houses  have  been  for  centu- 
ries devoted  to  Cambridge,  —  Howards  and  Cav- 
endishes and  Spencers  and  Fitzwilliams  ;  and  much 
of  the  new  blood,  that  has  only  been  allowed  to 
flow  in  legislative  veins  for  a  few  years,  gets  its  last 
touch  of  refinement  and  spiritualization  in  the 
foundations  of  Cardinal  Wolsey  and  William  of 
Wvkeham.     But  take  all  England  through,  count 


LECTURE  XII.  805 

the  whole  body  of  that  wondrous  upper  class  which 
has  for  so  long  maintained  an  undaunted  front 
against  despotism,  against  democracy,  against  inva- 
sion, —  that  class  to  which  the  middle  rank  look 
with  admiration  and  awe,  the  proletarians  with 
dread  and  hatred,  extending  as  it  does  from  the 
fox-hunting  baron  or  earl,  whose  remote  ancestor 
stripped  the  crown  from  some  imbecile  Plantage- 
net,  up  or  down  as  you  please,  to  the  renowned 
lawyer  whose  father  was  a  barber  or  a  blacksmith, 
—  of  all  this  great  class  the  wing  attached  to  con- 
servatism and  the  world  that  is  past  finds  its  con- 
genial atmosphere  in  Oxford  ;  the  wing  devoted  to 
progress  and  the  new  world  of  thought  is  faithful 
to  Cambridge.  This  is  the  allowed,  the  universal 
reputation  of  the  two  Universities,  —  Oxford  the 
conservative,  Cambridge  the  progressive  ;  Oxford 
the  tory,  Cambridge  the  whig  ;  Oxford  the  loyal 
or  the  Jacobite,  Cambridge  the  revolutionary  or 
the  Hanoverian,  it'  Oxford  lias  sometimes  stood, 
as  in  1088,  on  the  side  of  progress  and  emancipa- 
tion, it  is  because  the  hand  of  tyranny  was  laid  on 
her  vested  rights  that  she  sought  to  preserve.  If 
Cambridge,  as  in  the  rebellion  of  171"),  sided  with 
the  court,  the  high  nobility,  the  established  order 
of  things,  it  was  because  the  established  order  of 
things  \va<  ou  the  side-  of  liberty,  and  the  revolu- 
tionists aimed  at  the  revival  of  tyranny.  We  can 
well  conceive  of  such  aii  inversion,  —  we  know 
that  a   loud  crv  of  chivalrv  and   aristocracy  may 


366  ON   THE   CAM. 

■well  be  the  watchword  of  rebellion,  and  that  the 
devoted  friend  of  progress  and  republicanism  may 
give  his  life  to  uphold  order  and  law.  At  the  time 
of  the  Pretender's  rebellion,  the  king  quartered 
some  troops  at  Oxford,  at  the  same  time  that  he 
made  a  present  of  books  to  Cambridge.  An  Ox- 
ford muse,  smarting  under  the  imputation  of  dis- 
loyalty to  the  upstart  German  house,  perpetrated 
this  epigram  on  the  two  royal  acts. 

"  Our  royal  master  saw,  with  equal  eyes, 
The  wants  of  both  his  Universities ; 
Troops  he  to  Oxford  sent,  and  reason  why,  — 
That  learned  body  wanted  loyalty  ; 
But  sent  his  books  to  Cambridge,  as  discerning 
That  that  right  loyal  body  wanted  learning." 

Sir  William  Browne,  a  distinguished  Cambridge 
scholar,  seeing  deeper  into  the  real  feeling  of  the 
two  institutions,  and  knowing  full  well  what  the 
habits  and  minds  of  Oxford  men  were,  answered 
it  by  this  still  more  condensed  and  pithy  verse. 

"The  king  to  Oxford  sent  his  troop  of  horse, 
For  Tories  own  no  argument  but  force ; 
With  equal  care  to  Cambridge  books  he  sent, 
For  Whigs  allow  no  force  but  argument." 

Yes !  It  is  not  always  safe  to  take  the  opinion 
of  a  corporate  body  about  itself;  but  if  there  is 
one  thing  certain  in  the  history  of  England,  if 
there  is  one  thing  conceded  by  all  parties,  it  is 
that  Cambridge  is  the  Whig  University,  the  Lib- 
eral University,  the  home  of  advanced  principles 


lecture  m  367 

of  government  in  all  ages.  I  know  that  at  Oxford 
there  are  abundance,  particularly  at  this  very  mo- 
ment, of  noble  and  liberal-minded  men.  Perhaps 
at  this  instant,  the  views  of  her  leaders  arc  some- 
what in  advance  of  those  of  Cambridge.  I  know, 
too,  that  at  Cambridge  is  many  an  old  Tory,  and 
bigoted  divine.  But  on  the  whole,  in  the  aggre- 
gate, the  spirit  of  progress,  the  spirit  of  liberty, 
the  spirit  of  free  thought,  that  bids  defiance  to 
musty  enactments,  and  antiquated  ideas,  and  effete 
principles  and  abuses,  —  this  spirit,  which,  with 
all  her  prejudices,  with  all  her  obstinacy,  with  all 
her  arrogance,  is  still  the  glory  of  England,  —  this 
heavenly  spirit  still  breathes  strong  and  clear  from 
the  airy  courts  of  Trinity,  it  sounds  like  a  rushing 
mightv  wind  across  the  valley  of  the  Cam,  it  peals 
in  celestial  tones  from  the  organ  of  King's. 

I  need  no  better  proof  of  this  than  the  con- 
sideration of  the  present  ministry  and  opposition 
in  England.  Lord  Derby,  the  only  leader  under 
whom  the  Tories  have  a  chance  of  power,  is  Chan- 
cellor of  the  University  of  Oxford.  Lord  Palmer- 
ston,  the  only  man  who  can  hold  together  all  sec- 
tions of  the  Liberal  party,  was  formerly  in  Parlia- 
ment from  the  University  of  Cambridge.  I  know 
I  shall  be  told  that  Mr.  Gladstone,  the  liberal 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  is  member  for  the 
University  of  Oxford,  and  that  Spencer  Walpole, 
the  Secretary  for  the  Home  Department  under 
Lord  Derbv,  is  member  for  the  University  of  Cam- 


368  ON  THE   CAM. 

bridge.  But  I  know  also  that  when  Mr.  Glad- 
stone  left  Oxford,  he  left  it  an  arrant  Tory,  and 
that  his  views  have  undergone  a  steady  modifica- 
tion in  the  liberal  direction,  and  I  know  that  Spen- 
cer Walpole  is  the  most  liberal  and  advanced  of 
the  conservative  party,  and  sadly  out  of  place  with 
such  antediluvians  as  his  coadjutors. 

Yes,  let  me  repeat  again,  till  the  halls  ring  with 
the  delightful  sound,  Cambridge  is  the  liberal  Uni- 
versity, Cambridge  is  the  camp  from  which  the 
blast  of  progress  has  pealed  through  the  ages.  In 
all  time  it  is  from  her  that  have  come  forth  the 
great  leaders  in  the  successive  steps  for  the  eman- 
cipation of  the  English  mind.  And  she  shall  stand 
so  still.  Whatever  temporary  wave  of  bigotry 
may  roll  over  her,  whatever  sudden  cry  of  fanati- 
cism may  be  raised  in  her  streets,  still  those  gray 
halls,  those  sunny  court-yards,  those  re-echoing 
cloisters,  those  heaven-kissing  pinnacles,  and  the 
sovereign  authority  that  resides  in  them,  shall  be 
kept  forever  the  sanctuary  of  liberty,  "  the  sacred 
temple  consecrated  to  our  common  faith."  And 
to  her  the  nation  shall  look  for  wisdom.  To  her 
in  England's  darkest  hour,  when  intolerance  or 
superstition  or  corruption  seek,  under  the  name 
of  conservatism,  to  let  the  grand  edifice  of  her  lib- 
erty decay  and  crumble,  to  let  the  gorgeous  folds 
of  the  old  standard  of  freedom  that  has  braved  so 
many  storms,  fall  in  worn-out  shreds  from  the 
mast,  then  to  Cambridge  shall  the  nation  look  for 


lectuke  xn.  369 

protection  and  strength,  for  the  eloquent  orator 
and  the  upright  judge,  the  counsellor  and  leader 
of  the  people  of  England. 

Here  might  I  pause.  Here,  having  led  you  to 
the  mountain-top,  and  bid  you  survey  all  the  coun- 
try round,  I  might  leave  you.  But  my  last  words 
strike  in  my  breast  a  chord,  to  which,  I  know, 
yours  vibrate  responsivelv.  The  people  of  Eng- 
land !     "Who  are  they,  and  what  are  they  to  us  ? 

Those  persons  who,  in  our  country,  at  the  pres- 
ent day,  find  themselves  aggrieved  by  what  they 
conceive  the  opinion  held  by  the  people  of  England 
on  American  affairs,  are  accustomed  to  hold  and 
aver  two  very  distinct  and,  to  my  mind,  inconsist- 
ent views.  First,  that  the  opinion  of  the  people 
of  England  is  based  on  falsehood,  built  up  by  prej- 
udice  and  injustice,  and  animated  by  malice  and 
hatred,  and,  consequently,  should  create  in  us  :i 
hostile  feeling  towards  them;  the  particular  degree 
of  hostility,  whether  coldness,  contempt,  dislike, 
rage,  being  in  each  special  case  dictated  by  the 
education,  the  temperament,  or  the  interests  of 
the  individual.  Secondly,  —  and  how  this  view 
consorts  with  the  other  I  cannot  see,  —  that  the 
opinion  of  the  people  of  England  is  nothing  to  us; 
that  they  know  nothing  of  us,  and  if  they  did,  they 
:iro  incompetent,  by  the  very  constitution  of  the 
national  soul,  to  form  a  correct  opinion  of  us;  that 
it  is  our  own  duty,  as  free  citizens  of  tin-  Western 
Republic,  to  put  out  of  view  altogether  the  con- 


370  ON  THE  CAM. 

temptible  and  conceited  quibblings  of  these  insig- 
nificant king-ridden  islanders  (for  by  this  time, 
our  controversialist  begins  to  get  abusive).  Now, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  either  the  opinion  of  the 
English  people  is  valuable,  or  it  is  not.  Reject  it, 
if  you  will,  as  not  worth  considering  under  any 
circumstances ;  but,  in  that  case,  you  must  not  be 
elated  by  their  praise,  any  more  than  distressed 
by  their  censure.  Or  accept  it  as  a  serious  mat- 
ter. Then  if  you  find  it  hostile,  you  may  be  in- 
dignant, you  may  be  grieved,  you  may  be  haughty, 
but  you  cannot  be  contemptuous.  You  cannot 
say,  England's  opinion  is  valuable  when  she  praises 
us,  but  worthless  when  she  condemns  us.  My  own 
opinion  is  this :  —  The  views  of  the  people  of  Eng- 
land are  of  importance  to  us.  We  cannot  reject 
them  as  worthless.  The  position  of  England  to 
the  other  nations  of  the  earth  and  to  ourselves  is 
such,  that  whether  just  or  unjust,  laudatory  or  con- 
demnatory, we  must  listen  to  them.  If  just,  we 
should  accept  their  approval  as  a  most  gratifying 
tribute,  and  their  censure  as  a  most  serious  warn- 
ing ;  and  if  unjust,  we  should  work  with  all  our 
might  to  modify  the  erroneous  basis,  and  the  prej- 
udiced inference.  We  cannot  set  the  opinion  of 
such  a  nation  aside  as  of  no  consequence.  But 
waiving  that  point  for  a  moment ;  what  do  I  think 
of  the  views  themselves  ?  Are  they  just  or  un- 
just, laudatory  or  condemnatory  ?  The  answer 
is  not  as  simple  as  good  people  here  believe.  Let 
us  consider  each  class  in  England  separately. 


LECTURE  xn.  371 

The  old  aristocracy  are  almost  to  a  man  against 
us.  Their  feeling  to  us  is,  and  always  has  been, 
an  entire  disapproval  of  the  whole  American  civili- 
zation. We  may  prosper,  but  we  have  no  right  to 
prosper.  Providence  may,  if  he  will,  preserve  in 
peace  and  plenty  those  who  habitually  violate  his 
principles  of  government,  but  that  does  not  make 
them  the  less  his  enemies.  All  the  elements  of 
our  Constitution,  —  elective  sovereigns,  frequent 
rotation  in  office,  the  entire  abolition  of  hereditary 
distinctions,  and  of  property  qualification,  avowed 
silence  of  the  Constitution  on  everything  relating 
to  religion  ;  all  these  things  are  as  alien  to  the 
high  aristocracy  of  England  as  the  government  of 
Dahomey  or  Japan,  —  perhaps  more  so.  They 
cannot  wish  such  a  nation  true  prosperity  :  they 
cannot  want  such  a  set  of  arch-heretics  in  political 
theology  to  succeed.  The  question  of  slavery 
makes  very  little  difference.  With  some  ex- 
tremists it  may  modify,  with  others  increase  the 
hatred  ;  but  slaveholders  or  not,  we  are  all  sinners 
alike.  Anything  is  good  that  breaks  up  such  a 
nest  of  basilisks;  and,  if  they  must  decide  between 
two  evils,  why,  they  rather  prefer  the  South:  they 
are  country  gentlemen,  with  some  notion  of  aris- 
tocracy and  the  predominance  of  the  landed  inter- 
est. These  noble  ladies  and  gentlemen  arc  in 
ignorance  of  many  things  about  us:  but  if  they 
were  better  informed,  it  would  only  increase  their 
dislike.      They  mav   be  civil   to  the  country,   and 


372  ON  THE  CAM. 

friendly  to  individuals  ;  but  they  can  no  more  agree 
to,  or  approve  of  anything  we  do,  than  a  Republi- 
can of  1835  could  approve  of  General  Jackson,  or 
a  Republican  of  1855  approve  of  Judge  Douglas. 

It  should  be  said  that  these  old  people  hardly 
like  England  better  than  America.  They  have 
only  just  got  over  the  Reform  Bill,  they  shudder 
at  the  Corn  Laws,  and  go  into  hysterics  over  meas- 
ures for  the  further  relief  of  Dissenters. 

I  said  that  as  extremes  always  meet,  the  par- 
venus, men  raised  to  wealth  from  a  very  low  posi- 
tion, often  by  equivocal  means,  sided  as  much  as 
possible  with  the  high  aristocracy.  In  this  case 
it  is  very  true.  They  are  against  us,  not  from 
motives  of  principle,  —  they  have  no  principle,  — 
but  purely  from  interest.  The  American  com- 
merce interfered  with  their  gains,  the  American 
cargoes  began  to  underbid  their  shipments,  conse- 
quently they  want  this  pestilent  prosperity  broken 
up  at  once,  how  they  care  not. 

We  next  come  to  the  second  division  of  the  gov- 
erning classes,  the  progressives ;  the  Whig  fami- 
lies, whether  high  aristocracy  or  only  gentry,  those 
men  whose  foresight,  whose  prudence,  whose  lib- 
erality have  again  and  again  saved  the  fabric  of 
English  liberty  from  crumbling  for  want  of  new 
stones  and  mortar.  I  mean  men  who  would  ac- 
cept Lord  Russell  and  Cornewall  Lewis  as  their 
leaders.  How  are  they  disposed  to  us  ?  I  regret 
to  say,  not  much  more  favorably  than  the  former. 


LECTURE  XII.  C73 

For  what  they  have  done  for  England,  they  de- 
serve infinite  credit.  One  after  another  they  have 
succeeded  in  removing  abuses  that  were  a  disc-race 
to  her  state,  they  have  incurred  obloquy  of  all 
kinds  for  so  doing,  they  have  exposed  themselves 
to  the  fire  of  bigots  on  one  side  and  fanatics  on  the 
other,  and  they  have  steadily  persevered  in  their 
great  work,  to  adapt  existing  constitutions  to  new 
crises,  and  thus  make  the  whole  world  of  England 
advance  without  destroying  the  harmony  of  its 
parts.     For  these  great  reforms  they  deserve  our 

highest  admiration.     Rut  this  is  all.      Having  de- 
cs o 

voted  themselves  so  long  to  considering  the  re- 
sources and  needs  of  the  English  government  and 
constitution,  they  have  in  a  manner  ceased  to  com- 
prehend those  of  any  other  country.  They  would 
assimilate  every  country  on  earth  to  England,  and 
they  cannot  seem  to  understand  why  every  coun- 
try does  not  instantly  assimilate  its  constitution  to 
that  of  England.  They  cannot  recognize  how, 
without  for  a  moment  seeking  to  disparage  the 
value  of  the  English  road  to  liberty,  there  may  not 
be  a  French,  a  German,  an  Italian,  an  American 
road  to  liberty,  each  peculiar  for  the  same  reason 
that  gives  the  peculiarity  to  all  roads,  that  each 
starts  from  its  own  point.  For  instance,  they  al- 
lowed forty  vears  to  pass  after  France  abolished 
slavery,  before  they  did  the  same.  Rut  the  mo- 
ment they  had  abolished  it,  not  a  day  passed  with- 
out a  tirade  against  America  for  not  abolishing  it, 


374  ON  THE   CAM 

though  they  could  suggest  no  possible  method. 
And  because  it  was  not  abolished  then,  they  have 
been  slow  to  believe  it  is  to  be  now.  And  thus, 
because  the  other  nations  of  the  world,  and  espe- 
cially the  United  States,  differ  in  some  principles 
of  government,  or  details  of  administration  from 
England,  their  policy  is  habitually  condemned  by 
men  just  as  fond  of  liberty  as  we  are  !  In  regard 
to  the  prosent  war,  their  idea  is  very  curious. 
They  are  never  able  to  understand  an  incident  or 
a  character  in  foreign  history,  Greek,  Roman, 
French,  American,  till  they  have  found  a  parallel 
to  it  in  English  history.  Thus  they  read,  in  Grote 
and  Merivale,  not  of  Demosthenes  and  Cicero,  but 
of  Mr.  Fox  or  Lord  Erskine.  So  the  parallel  had  to 
be  found  for  secession.  The  nearest  they  could 
find  was  the  Revolutionary  War.  Now  the  liberal 
party  in  England  have  just  come  to  the  conclu- 
sion, to  which  Horace  Walpole  came  ninety  years 
ago,  that  the  American  colonies  were  tyrannically 
treated,  and  were  right  in  declaring  independence. 
So,  having  found  their  darling  parallel,  being 
propped  right  up  by  a  precedent,  they  will  have 
everything  give  way,  all  differences  are  of  minor 
importance,  and  because  Buttrick  and  Harrington 
were  in  the  right  in  firing  on  Major  Pitcairn's 
battalion,  Beauregard  and  Pickens  were  right  in 
shelling  Fort  Sumter ! 

From   these  two  classes  then,  both  divisions   of 
the  great  governing  body  of  England,  we  have  as 


lecture  xn.  375 

yet  little  sympathy  to  expect.  The  first  could  not 
sympathize  with  us  under  any  circumstances,  the 
latter  cannot  accept  us  as  coadjutors  in  the  cause 
of  universal  liberty,  because  we  refuse  to  be  ser- 
vants in  the  universal  distribution  of  English  lib- 
erty. In  other  words,  nearly  the  entire  body  of 
the  governing  class  in  England  feels  a  want  of 
faith  in  us,  in  our  principles,  our  methods,  our  in- 
tentions. We  commonly  say  they  are  ignorant  of 
us,  —  so  they  are,  but  I  suspect  when  the  war 
broke  out,  we  were  quite  as  liable  to  make  blun- 
ders about  our  geography  as  they.  I  know  we 
were  about  our  political  history.  It  is  that  they 
feel  a  species  of  general  distrust  in  us  all,  that  pre- 
vents their  either  seeking  fuller  information,  or 
when  they  have  it,  using  it  aright.  And  it  is  not 
till  they  can  be  made  to  believe  in  us,  that  they 
can  be  made  to  appreciate  us. 

But  there  are  two  classes  in  England  that  I 
would  oppose  to  these,  because  I  believe  them  to 
be  truly  our  friends.  And  first  I  refer  to  the 
middle  class  of  England,  —  the  great  body  of  the 
people  above  the  rabble  of  proletarians,  and  be- 
low the  ruling  class,  yet  constantly  rising  into  it, 
constantly  recruiting  it,  spread  throughout  the 
whole  country,  and  forming,  as  is  constantly  the 
boast  of  those  who  deliver  panegyrics  on  England, 
the  real  strength  of  the  country.  These  men, 
when  the  war  broke  out,  and  for  some  tinn*  alter, 
accepted  the  views   of  North  and  South  that  were 


376  ON   THE   CAM. 

so  loudly  ami  constantly  forced  upon  them  from 
above.  But  they  are  a  set  of  men  naturally  im- 
patient of  control ;  they  have  always  felt,  even  in 
the  moments  when  they  seem  most  servile,  a  ri- 
valry and  opposition  to  the  aristocracy,  and  they 
determined  to  think  for  themselves.  Ladies  and 
gentlemen,  when  a  great  body  of  men,  undeterred 
by  hereditary  creeds,  by  political  prejudices,  by 
greedy  self-interest,  resolves  to  think  for  itself 
about  the  American  war,  can  you  doubt  what  the 
result  will  be?  Can  you  doubt  what  they  will 
think  ?  The  manufactures  in  Lancashire  stopped. 
The  cotton  brokers  in  Liverpool  told  the  mill-own- 
ers that  the  United  States  were  shutting  off  the 
supplies,  and  they  believed  them.  But  when  in  a 
year  they  found  that  while  their  wheels  were  still, 
and  their  looms  silent,  and  their  children  starving, 
that  these  disinterested  cotton  traders  were  making 
fortunes,  selling  and  reselling  cotton  a  score  of 
times  without  ever  removing  it  from  the  wharf, — 
then  they  indignantly  shook  off  the  shackles  of  such 
dense  dictation,  and  now  the  great  heart  of  the 
cotton  district  of  Manchester  and  Bolton  is  beating 
in  harmony  with  that  of  Lowell  and  Lawrence. 

But  there  is  another  class  that  also,  I  believe, 
thinks  with  us,  —  a  class  that  is  removed  above 
the  influence  ot^  the  governing  class  ;  a  class  to 
which  as  I  stated  in  a  former  lecture,  every  na- 
tion must  look  for  its  real  glory,  ami  every  Uni- 
versity for  its  most   valuable   representatives,  the 


LECTURE   XU.  377 

class  of  literary  men,  the  writers,  the  thinkers. 
England  with  all  her  many  claims  to  honor,  with 
all  the  doubtful  spots  in  her  history,  will  challenge 
the  world  to  produce  a  literature  more  varied, 
more  solid,  more  brilliant.  When  I  therefore 
express  my  sincere  conviction,  derived  from  con- 
versation, from  reading,  from  association,  that 
the  great  body  of  literary  men,  those  who,  not 
content  with  possessing  valuable  information  and 
sound  learning  themselves,  have  taken  up  the 
glorious  work  of  transmitting  it  to  the  people, 
of  handing  on  the  .-acred  fire,  —  that  these  are 
with  us,  —  I  hope  you  will  see  what  a  noble  bodv 
of  allies  i-  ours,  and  what  a  glorious  augury  we 
have  that  the  heart  and  sense  of  England  in  time 
will  be  our-  as  well. 

Yes,  a  glorious  augury  :  for  there  i-  no  dearer 
hope  in  the  breast  of  everv  faithful  American  than 
that  we  -hall  in  due  time  extort  the  meed  of  ap- 
probation and  -empathy  from  England.  Y<m  per- 
ceive, fellow  citizen-.  I  am  not  one  of  tho-e  who 
affect  to  slight  or  disregard  the  support  and  friend- 
ship of  the  English  people,  —  no.  we  cannot  do 
without  them.  —  we  cannot  tread  our  pathway 
alone.  In  this  great  work  we  have  cho-m  to 
stand  forth  as  tin-  champions  of  freedom  a_ 
oppre^ion.    of  pro^re--      _         I        _  'try.   of   truth 

i>d.    of  the     !  again-t 

the    oM.       Howovi-r    _■  such    an 

mi'dit  he   to  our  national  vanitv,  we  cannot  work 


378  ON  THE  CAM. 

alone.  No  one  nation  can  convert  the  world,  no 
one  nation  can  force  the  reluctant  despotisms  and 
oligarchies  into  the  way  of  truth.  Somewhere, 
in  some  part  of  the  world,  we  must  find  a  coadju- 
tor, a  helper,  a  brother.  Somewhere  there  must 
be  another  nation  to  which  we  can  look  for  sup- 
port, to  feel  that  while  we  are  combating  the 
powers  of  sin  on  one  side,  they  are  crushing  them 
under  the  other,  that  while  the  Malakhoff  of  error 
is  crumbling  beneath  our  shot  and  shell,  its  Re- 
dan is  slippery  with  the  blood  of  their  charging 
legions ;  and  that  when  the  last  foe  lays  down 
his  arms  before  us,  and  our  victorious  but  weary 
hosts  are  starting  to  their  feet  at  the  peal  of 
another  bugle,  we  shall  recognize  in  its  tones  not 
the  challenge  of  an  advancing  enemy,  but  the 
triumphant  blast  of  a  returning  friend.  Where 
are  you  to  look  for  this  ally  ?  in  what  nation  will 
you  find  your  natural,  your  heart's  friend  ?  In 
France,  scarce  healed  from  the  blows  of  her  revo- 
lution, and  bleeding  with  fresh  wounds  from  the 
hand  of  the  craftiest  of  tyrants  and  the  falsest  of 
usurpers  ?  In  Italy,  that  is  only  just  struggling 
into  union  through  a  thousand  perils,  and  looks 
to  you  not  as  a  companion  and  ally,  but  a  guide, 
a  patron,  a  guardian,  among  the  clashings  of 
stronger  powers  ?  In  Germany,  split  into  a  score 
of  petty  states,  wasting  her  noble  nationality  in 
baseless  speculations  and  worthless  wranglings  ?  In 
Russia,  cursed  with  the  most  unrestrained  despot- 


LECTURE  XII.  379 

ism  of  the  age,  and  fighting  at  this  moment  against 
law  and  justice  ?     O,  my  friends,  it  is  not  possible, 
it  is  not  true  that  you  can  be  so  "  lost  to  all  feeling 
of  your  true  interest  and  your  national  dignity,"  as 
to  "  seek  that  weed  that  grows  in  every  soil,"  when 
in  that  one  glorious  country  is  to  be  found  what 
you  so  much  need.      Take  the  warning  Schiller 
puts  in  the  mouth  of  the  old  counsellor    of  the 
Tells  and  Stauffachers  of  Switzerland  :  — 
"  0  lcrne  fiihlcn,  welches  Stainms  du  bis: ! 
Wirft  niclit,  fur  eiteln  Glanz  und  Flittcrschein 
Die  eehte  Perle  dienes  Vortheils  bin  ! " 

There  she  stands,  the  dear  old  country,  the  home 
of  your  fathers,  the  home  of  your  brethren,  —  the 
land  of  the  Ilampdens  and  the  Cromwells  and  the 
Miltons,  of  the  Pitts,  the  Burkes,  the  Erskines, — 
the  home  of  our  common  freedom,  of  our  common 
truth,  of  our  common  justice  and  law,  of  our  com- 
mon language,  of  our  common  blood.  ()  never, 
never,  let  the  accursed  serpent  of  calumny  infuse 
his  foul  poison  into  your  ears,  and  till  your  blood 
witli  his  leperous  distilment  to  the  rejection  of  such 
blessings. 

Fellow  citizens,  there  is  a  work,  a  mighty  work 
for  .the  united  action  of  England  and  America. 
Let  all  the  orators  of  both  countries  come  forward 
to  repeat  the  glorious  destiny  awaiting  either  one 
of  them.  Let  thorn  count  over  every  tender  mem- 
ory, and  (.'very  brilliant  hope  known  to  either,  let 
them  pile  up  the  <■<■].,,  al  .-tincture   of  their  tower- 


380  ON   THE   CAM. 

ing  climaxes  to  enshrine  the  lesson  of  national 
duty,  —  let  them  recount  every  state  or  every 
colony  acknowledging  the  sway  of  either,  from 
the  Mackenzie  River  to  Norfolk  Island,  from  the 
mouth  of  the  Columbia  round  eastward  to  the 
China  Sea,  over  which  either  country  is  bound  to 
diffuse  her  national  blessings,  —  and  their  united 
eloquence  will  not  realize  a  tithe  of  the  glories 
that  await  the  action  of  the  united  nations.  What 
power  on  earth  can  resist  two  such  mighty  ener- 
gies, leading  to  some  future  Chattanooga  of  liberty 
the  whole  vast  army  of  the  Saxon  name,  in  one 
unbroken  charge  along  the  entire  line,  circling  the 
flanks,  right  and  left  at  once,  breasting  the  heights, 
crushing  through  the  rifle-pits,  and  thundering 
down  the  farther  slope  on  the  scattering  rabble 
of  darkness  ? 

But  such  metaphors  are  all  too  weak  to  express 
the  glory  that  will  attend  the  united  action  of  the 
whole  English  race.  When  two  such  flames  join, 
the  blaze  will  be  like  the  sun  himself  over  the 
whole  heavens ;  and  already  the  day  is  at  hand. 
Already  Aurora  is  opening  the  gates  of  the  morn- 
ing, already  the  hours  are  making  ready  the  glit- 
tering car,  and,  when  the  sun  of  liberty  himself 
issues,  to  drive  his  majestic  course  along  the  starry 
zodiac  of  the  ages,  amid  the  gorgeous  galaxy  of 
the  nations,  he  will  yoke  to  his  resistless  chariot 
the  two  unrivalled  steeds,  that  even  now  are  snuf- 
fing the  keen   fresh  air  of  the  morning,  and  beat- 


LECTURE  XII.  381 

ing  impatiently  against  the  barrier,  England   and 
America, 

"  Two  coursers  of  imperial  race 
With  necks  in  thunder  clothed,  and  long  resounding  pace." 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  —  As  my  course  of  lec- 
tures draws  to  a  close,  I  thank  you  most  heartily 
for  the  attention  and  sympathy  I  have  uniformly 
experienced  from  you.  I  invite  you  to  give  that 
same  sympathy  and  attention  to  a  few  lines  em- 
bodying the  idea  of  my  last  few  sentences,  in  ear- 
nest that  the  hopes  experienced  at  the  beginning 
of  my  course  have  been  fulfilled. 


ENGLAND  AND  AMERICA. 

Ye  cannot  break  the  cord  of  gold 

That  hinds  in  one  the  sister  lands ; 
Unharmed  by  man  the  links  will  hold, 

When  God  hath  forged  their  glittering  bands 
Though  every  tiend  that  hell  hath  screened, 

In  falsehood's  foulest  gloom  involved, 
Tugged  at  the  chain  with  might  and  main, 

It  cannot,  shall  not  be  dissolved. 

No  !    By  that  blood  whose  crimson  tide 

The  breasts  of  each  to  manhood  warms  ;  — 
No!     By  that  speech  which  cither  side 

Repeats  alike  in  myriad  forms;  — 
No  !     By  each  name,  to  cadi  the  same, 

Of  child,  or  hill,  or  town,  or  river, 
Still  her.-,  still  ours,  ye  guardian  powers 

Our  heart?,  from  doubt  and  strife  deliver! 


382  ON   THE   CAM. 

By  every  fight  for  freedom  fought, 

By  every  song  for  freedom  sung, 
By  every  right  so  dearly  bought, 

By  stalwart  arm  or  silver  tongue  ;  — 
By  all  the  past,  our  friendship  fast 

Nor  time  shall  change,  nor  ocean  sever, 
By  all  the  hopes  the  future  opes 

Her  triumphs  shall  be  ours  forever. 

Yes,  we  will  love  thee  !    Though  the  cloud 

Of  dark  detraction  dim  the  skies  ; 
Though  slander's  trumpet,  bellowing  loud, 

Assault  our  faith  with  countless  lies. 
Though  cold  and  strange,  through  chance  and  change, 

Still  turn  thy  brothers'  hearts  to  thee  ; 
Firm  may'st  thou  stand,  our  sister  land, 

Our  beacon  lurht  across  the  sea  ! 


APPENDIX. 


OLDER  AND  YOUNGER  STUDENTS. 
(Lecture  V.) 

Soon  after  the  fifth  of  these  lectures  was  deliv- 
ered, I  was  favored  with  some  criticisms  by  a  young 
friend  on  that  portion  of  it  in  which  the  treatment 
of  younger  by  older  students  in  English  and  Amer- 
ican colleges  is  compared.  The  criticisms  are  two 
in  number,  and  of  very  different  weight  and  char- 
acter. I  am  told,  first,  that  I  have  instituted  an 
unfair  comparison  between  English  and  American 
colleges;  that  J  should  compare  American  colleges 
and  English  public  schools,  and  that  at  these  latter 
there  exists  a  system  —  figging  —  which  affords 
a  reasonable  parallel  to  the  treatment  of  younger 
classes  complained  of  in  America:  secondly,  that 
the  treatment  objected  to  is  really  no  source  of 
pain  or  suffering  to  the  younger  class  ;  that,  be- 
ing meant  as  a  joke,  it  is  almost  always  taken 
as  one,  and  recognized  as  an  institution  that  the 
Freshmen  themselves  would  not  wish  abolished. 

Iain   not   aware  what   my  critic's  .-oiuves  <»1   in- 


384  APPENDIX. 

formation  on  English  Public  Schools  are.  While 
I  lived  in  England,  I  was  very  intimate  with  a 
large  number  of  teachers  and  pupils  in  them,  and 
made  constant  inquiries  as  to  their  mode  of  life, 
which  were  very  freely  answered,  and  I  have  ar- 
rived at  a  conclusion  directly  opposite  to  my 
critic's.  The  comparison  between  English  schools 
and  American  colleges  has  certain  superficial  re- 
semblances to  support  it,  but  a  thorough  knowl- 
edge of  both  entirely  removes  it.  The  system  of 
fagging  differs  toto  coelo  from  that  of  practical  jok- 
ing as  practised  here.  Four  points  may  be  enu- 
merated in  support  of  this  statement;  —  1st.  Fag- 
ging is  exercised  by  the  oldest  pupils  on  the  young- 
est, the  middle  portion  of  the  school  being  neither 
servants  nor  masters  ;  2d.  It  consists  in  specified 
services  yielded  by  the  younger  in  return  for  pro- 
tection and  defence  by  the  older  against  bullying, 
and  it  is  in  all  cases  expected  and  required  that 
this  protection  should  be  asked  and  obtained ;  3d. 
The  services  and  requirements  are  reduced  to  a 
well-understood  system,  beyond  which  nothing  can 
be  exacted,  in  order  to  guard  against  individual  ca- 
price ;  4th.  The  whole  system  is  with  the  consent 
and  under  the  control  of  the  masters,  constituting 
a  regular  feudal  aristocracy,  where  the  master  is 
lord  paramount,  and  the  great  vassals  exercise 
lordship  and  protection  over  the  less.  This  applies 
to  Rugby,  Harrow,  and  other  great  schools  mod- 
elled on  them.    At  Eton,  the  system,  particularly  in 


APPENDIX.  385 

respect  of  the  authority  of  the  elder  boys  being  de- 
rived from  the  master's,  is  not  so  accurately  laid  out, 
but  a  series  of  immemorial  customs  is  almost  as  ef- 
ficient in  preventing  systematic  bullying  and  keep- 
ing authority  within  bounds.  A  more  complete 
contrast  to  Harvard  can  hardly  be  imagined.  The 
old  system  of  Freshman  servitude  and  Senior  pro- 
tection is  somewhat  analogous  to  it,  but,  as  is  well 
known,  the  very  name  of  that  has  ceased  for  half 
a  century  ;  that  system  fell  from  an  inherent  weak- 
ness from  which  the  English  schools  are  free,  the 
admission  of  the  Sophomores,  the  middle  portion 
of  the  school,  the  part  just  free  from  the  servitude, 
to  a  share  in  authority,  which  they  of  all  others 
were  most  likely  to  abuse. 

But  in  truth  no  such  elaborate  contrast  need  be 
drawn,  for  the  two  sets  of  institutions  are  not  to  be 
compared.  The  English  schools  are  for  boys. 
Their  inhabitants  study  like  boys,  play  like  boys, 
talk  and  think  like  boys,  as  boys  they  are  and  wish 
to  be  treated,  and  if  their  fagging  or  any  other 
part  of  their  life  took  the  form  of  practical  joking, 
it  would  be  excused  or  punished  as  a  boy's  failing. 
If  you  called  them  young  men,  they  would  suspect 
a  joke  and  not  relish  it  either.  Our  colleges  claim 
to  be  attended  by  young  men,  who  are  very  proud 
of  having  taken  the  first  step  on  the  path  of  man- 
hood, and  they  assert  and  receive  privileges  ac- 
corded to  none  but  young  men.  Let  them  beware 
then  how  they  give  as  a  precedent  for  their  actions 


386  APPENDIX. 

the  conduct  of  a  boys'  school,  and  boast  of  their 
boyish  tastes. 

Secondly,  I  am  told  that  the  persecution  of  the 
Freshmen  is  not  by  them  regarded  as  persecution 
at  all,  but  as  a  joke,  and  a  good  one ;  that,  in  fact, 
to  use  the  words  of  my  young  critic,  "  They  rather 
like  it."  To  this  there  are  many  answers.  First, 
the  Freshmen  are  not  the  only  persons  whose 
opinion  should  rule  in  this  matter.  The  govern- 
ing authorities  of  the  college  to  whom  its  proprie- 
tors commit  its  internal  discipline  ;  the  parents  who 
have  sent  their  sons  to  it,  and  can  surely  claim  a 
voice  in  the  treatment  they  are  to  experience  ;  the 
community  which  has  laws  on  its  statute  book 
against  breaking,  and  entering,  and  assault  and 
battery ;  all  these  are  quite  as  much  to  be  taken 
into  council  as  the  Sophomores  and  Freshmen. 
Secondly,  the  fact  that  the  Freshmen  are  content 
or  pleased  to  be  the  victims  of  a  system  of  practical 
joking  only  proves  a  very  poor  state  of  things  at 
college.  There  are  plenty  in  China  who  will  liter- 
ally give  their  heads  for  a  good  smoke  of  opium. 
It  is  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  Indian  widows 
are  prevented  from  mounting  their  husbands'  fu- 
neral piles.  But  these  cases  are  generally  thought 
to  prove  the  degradation  of  the  countries,  not  the 
propriety  of  suicide,  real  or  constructive.  Third, 
I  deny  the  fact.  I  have  no  doubt  the  Freshmen 
in  most  cases  submit  and  make  the  best  of  it,  be- 
cause it  is  the  instinct  of  all  young  men  to  submit 


APPENDIX.  387 

unflinchingly  where  they  cannot  prevent.  I  know 
also  that  they  never  complain,  because  to  complain 
would  involve  "telling,"  that  highest  crime  in  the 
youthful  code.  But  putting  false  courage  and  false 
honor  out  of  the  question,  to  assert  that  they  like 
their  persecution,  that  they  regard  it  for  instance 
as  the  "  Foxes  "  at  a  German  University  are  sup- 
posed to  like  their  initiation  into  the  company  of 
the  "  Burschen,"  shows  either  wilful  perversion 
or  gross  ignorance  of  facts.  Suppose  we  had  the 
state  of  things  which  exists  in  England ;  suppose 
the  Sophomores  for  the  whole  of  the  first  term  de- 
voted themselves  to  making  the  Freshmen's  path 
easy ;  invited  him  to  social  entertainments  where 
he  was  not  made  to  pay,  gave  him  useful  informa- 
tion about  college,  made  him  a  member  of  their 
clubs  at  an  early  stage,  and  encouraged  and  helped 
him  in  every  way,  would  the  Freshmen  sigh  for 
the  old  state  of  things,  and  envy  the  Cadets  at 
West  Point  for  their  happiness  in  possessing  a  set 
of  kind  elders,  who  treated  them  to  delightful 
jokes  ? 

For  these  reasons  I  have  left  the  passage  as  it 
was  delivered  ;  and  I  wish  it  distinctly  understood 
that  my  remarks  have  no  connection  with  any  that 
have  appeared  elsewhere,  and  particularly  with  no 
newspaper  editor  or  writer. 


388 


APPENDIX. 


II. 


DIFFERENT  COLLEGES. 


(Lectcre  VII.) 

I  append  a  list  of  the    colleges    at  Cambridge 
with  the  date   of  their  foundation  and  founder's 


names : — 

St.  Peter's,  or  Peterhouse, 

1257, 

Hugh  de  Balsham,  Bishop  of  Ely. 

Clare, 

1326, 

Lady  Elizabeth  Clare. 

Pembroke, 

1347, 

Countess  of  Pembroke. 

Gonville  and  Caius, 

f  1348, 
{  1558, 

Edmund  Gonville. 
John  Kaye,  or  Cains. 

Trinity  Hall, 

1350, 

William  Bateman,  Bishop  of  Nor- 
wich. 

Corpus  Christi, 

1352, 

Two  Guilds  in  Cambridge. 

King's, 

1441, 

King  Henry  VI. 

Queens', 

(  1448, 
<  1465, 

Queen  Margaret  of  Anjou. 
Queen  Elizabeth  Widville. 

St.  Catherine's, 

1473, 

Robert  Wodelarke,  Chancellor. 

Jesus, 

1496, 

John  Alcock,  Bishop  of  Ely. 

Christ's, 

1505, 

J  Lady  Margaret  Somerset,  Count- 

St.  John's, 

1511, 

l  ess  of  Richmond  and  Derby. 

Magdalene, 

1519, 

Thomas,  Lord  Audley. 

Trinity, 

1546, 

King  Henry  VIII. 

Emmanuel, 

1584, 

Sir  Walter  Mildmay,  Kt. 

Sidney  Sussex, 

1598, 

Sidney  Lady  Sussex. 

Downing, 

1800, 

Sir  Geo.  Downing,  Bart. 

Several  of  these  foundations,  St.  John's,  Christ's, 
and  Trinity  for  instance,  absorbed  those  of  older 
colleges;  Trinity  in  particular  occupies  the  site 
of  King's  Hall,  founded  by  King  Edward  III., 
and  St.  Michael's,  or  Michael  House,  by  Hervy 
de  Stanton,  in  the  same  reign. 


APPENDIX.  889 

III. 

EXPENSES. 
(Lecture  X.) 

I  have  often  been  asked  what  is  the  annual 
expense  of  living  at  Cambridge.  It  is  very  diffi- 
cult to  answer  this  question,  owing  to  the  large 
part  of  every  year  spent  away  from  the  Univer- 
sity, and  the  very  considerable  pecuniary  assistance 
which  many  of  those,  otherwise  in  very  easy  cir- 
cumstances, derive  from  their  place  of  birth  or 
early  training.  I  believe,  however,  it  would  be 
generally  agreed  that  any  student  with  an  income 
of  less  than  two  hundred  pounds  a  year  would  have 
to  economize  in  many  points  where  he  saw  his  inti- 
mate friends  spending  freely ;  and  that  any  one 
with  more  than  three  hundred  pounds  would  be 
distinctly  classed  among  the  richer  men.  One 
might  infer  from  this  that  two  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds  a  year  was  the  average  income  ;  but  this 
ambiguous  expression  is  strongly  calculated  to 
mislead.  It  struck  me  that  only  a  small  part  of 
the  undergraduates  spent  anything  near  this  aver- 
age ;  th"  larger  number  were  quite  poor,  depend- 
ent (in  various  benefactions  from  school  or  college, 
and  living  very  economically;  or  else  quite  rich, 
stinting  themselves  in  very  little,  and  thinking 
hardly    at    all    of   the   future.      Perhaps    the    least 


390  APPENDIX. 

deceptive  statement  would  be  that  any  young 
man  with  an  income  of  two  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds  a  year  could  live  surrounded  by  comforts, 
and  what  to  American  students  would  be  luxuries, 
for  the  scale  of  living  is  certainly  higher  in  Eng- 
land ;  that  with  an  income  either  less  or  greater, 
he  would  have  to  practise  great  care,  unless  it 
were  very  much  greater,  in  order  to  make  his 
means  square  with  the  style  of  associates  to  which 
his  antecedents  would  probably  introduce  him. 


THE   END. 


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